The Force
by Talulah-Bear
Summary: We've all got secrets. Kim's in love with Jared who doesn't know she exists; and Jared's got more to hide than your average teenage werewolf. A "Jared Imprints" story.
1. Chapter 1

**Howdy. Okay, I know I'm guilty. I _should_ be updating _Best Friends Forever_, but I'm not. I do have an excuse (it's lame) though. I have MAJOR writers block. Honestly, I do. I know _exactly_ what is going to happen, I just can't make it _happen._ So anyways, this came to me last night, and so voila! Another story is born. It might be a bit tedious, but I couldn't get it out of my head and it's gotten the creative flow started again. (It's at a crawl, but it's flowin' all right.) Heh, funny story. I was reading Stephenie Meyer's new book _The Host_, and the guys name is Jared. And then when I stood up to go get a glass of water, my friend Kimberly called. Thus the inspiration. Anyways, read, review, be merry. (Please review, I would love you for infinity. And possibly beyond.)**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Kim or Jared...I do however own their last names, Kim's dad, and this particular story line.**

**:)**

**Arriverderci.**

* * *

The hot water was a shock to my system as I crept into the shower, fighting with my heavy eyelids and attempting not to fall on my butt in the process.

Mornings were the worst time of day for me. For one, five in the morning was not a happy time for any normal human being. (My father doesn't fit under that category any longer; he loves mornings. I'll have to shoot him.) My makeup never seemed to work for me that early, I never put on matching socks; and my hair was beyond help before I even got out the door. I could never manage to drink enough coffee to keep me awake all the way to third period, which is where I needed to pay the most attention.

Not only was English my worst subject in school, but Jared Brooks sat kitty-corner to me in the back, and it was practically a sin not to have wide eyes in his presence.

I'd sort of been in love with him since the second grade, when he tripped me in the playground and stole my jump rope. (Both were endearing qualities to my seven year old self.) Through the years, he'd gotten much better. He'd finally grown into his too-big ears, _please _and _thank you_ were both now very common in his conversations, and he'd gotten over the jump-rope jacking phase.

Jared Brooks was my Romeo. Though in my opinion, he blew that silly English tart right out of the water.

It was his face that I saw behind my eyelids as I washed my hair with my new strawberry shampoo. Just another one of my changes that he'd inspired. More than once, I'd heard him say how much he loved strawberries, and girls who weren't afraid to talk about Star Wars in public. So, I bought new shampoo and caught myself up in the world of the Jedi.

He still hadn't acknowledged my existence. When I wore an R2-D2 shirt to school, his ass-hole friend Paul complimented me, but Jared didn't seem to notice. He never noticed anything I did, and it was starting to hurt.

My friend Heather had been trying for years to talk me out of my obsession, saying that she was "tired of seeing me so clueless," and other crap I'd stopped listening to in middle school. I was adamant on my battlefield. Jared Brooks would be mine – or at least say one word to me – by the end of the year or I was jumping off a building.

(Or a car. Whichever one was closest. Most likely the car either way; I'd never been a flare for the dramatic. Or the suicide.)

I was pulled out of my natural Jared-dreaming by a sharp rap on my bathroom door.

"Don't take all the hot water dear! We need it to do laundry." Good old Dad, always so worried about the good of the family. Laundry before cleanliness, and cleanliness before breakfast; never put your elbows on the table or slurp your tea. Don't chew with your mouth full, speak when spoken to, and don't talk over the television.

Life lessons from Henry Miller brought to you by…

"Okay Dad, I'm almost done!" I shouted and blinked hot water out of my eyes. My face hadn't been breaking out the last time I checked, so I skipped washing my face and cut the water off.

I shook my long hair like a dog and stepped warily out of the shower. I'd always had a knack for slipping on wet linoleum. We'll call it a gift.

With my hair thoroughly wrung out, and my body dry of all water droplets, I marched myself across the hallway into my bedroom. Pink walls and a hideous neon green butterfly chair greeted me. I had kept the same room decorations up since I had graduated from the third grade. (When Jared said he liked a girl who kept to her style.) A few posters had been added since then, but the scheme of things was the same.

Bright colors and lots of them. Being in my room was like being on acid and trying to do tie-die; you never ran out of things to look at.

I rolled my eyes. Maybe my Jared obsession was a little out of hand if I was letting it subject me to this kind of vertigo every day. But just the thought of his name sent my heart fluttering, so I knew _that_ obsession wouldn't be dying out any time soon.

With that thought in mind – Jared – I strolled to my closet and picked out a pair of jeans and my QTS sweatshirt. I'd go casual today. It was Monday, and I'd never been much of a dresser-upper anyways. Getting dressed quickly, I decided that as long as I was going for the casual look, I'd throw my hair into loose pigtails instead of the normally meticulously straightened long locks I usually sported. (Jared liked long, straight hair.)

By the time I was done wrestling with my un-straightened and frizzy hair, I had ten minutes left, and I knew I was going to need more time than that to do my makeup. I had to hurry unless I wanted to drive to school with my stinky over-weight brother.

I knew I wasn't ugly, but I had never considered myself _beautiful_. Occasionally if I caught my reflection in the right light, I could confidently say that I was pretty; but those occurrences were few and in-between. Makeup helped – when I could do it right – so I spent most of my preparation time lacquering my face with just the right shade of concealer or foundation, and mascara that was just dark enough to hide my too-long lashes. It was a workout, and it took time.

A lot of time. More than ten minutes.

Since I was desperate, I settled for only putting on foundation for the day. Let the public gawk at my feather-duster lashes; I could cope.

xXx

When the yellow bus pulled up to the school parking lot, a collective groan passed through the students aboard it. Principle Stone was standing on the front steps, in front of a sign that said "Collective Works Day."

In short, this meant that instead of a normal tedious school day, we had to put up with listening to the administrator's monotone-drone of a voice for two hours before lunch, while sitting outside in the wet grass and trying not to make noise. After lunch, and normally a very brief directional period, the students of QTS were set loose on their own agenda's. We were supposed to collect a "Best Work" from each class and period, all of which were to be turned in at the end of the day for a grade that meant absolutely nothing.

These days were always an unpleasant surprise.

As we filed off of the oversized and under stuffed _Twinkie_, I involuntarily did a scan of the students gathered in the lawn; searching as ever for the face that was constantly on my mind, but always so much better in person.

Nothing. Again.

I was starting to get suspicious. Jared had been gone for a good two weeks from school, and I hadn't seen any sign of him since then. The company line was that his family was on "vacation" somewhere, but I had seen his parents and older sister at the store the weekend before, so I wasn't buying it.

Was he sick? Had something happened? Was he skipping? Did he die? I refused to admit to the fact that I was worrying about the boy that hadn't even _acknowledged_ my existence in the seven years I'd been in love with him, but when it got right down to it, I _was _worried. Worried sick. Jared hadn't missed a single day of school since the second grade when the chicken pox broke out in Ms. Smith's class, and now all of the sudden, he's gone, vanished, disappeared, for _two whole weeks_?

It was beyond weird.


	2. Chapter 2

**Howdy. Sorry it took so long guys...I got lazy. Then I got sick. But now I'm better, not lazy, and not stuck on what to do for _Best Friends Forever._ So you should expect an update on that sometime this week. (Yes, I am aware I said that last time...but hey. That's what I do.) As for _this_ update, I hope you guys like it, I hope it's not crap...and I REALLY hope you review. Because that would just be swell. Read, review, be merry...make me smile. :)**

**DISCLAIMER: Don't own 'em. :(**

* * *

My day had been made.

I preparation for Mr. Stone's _fabulous_ Collective Works speech, I had pulled out a pencil and a pad of paper. I was just setting the pencil onto my knee, when Scott Farley screamed right behind me and I jumped, sending the poor pencil spiraling into space. I reached out and caught it clumsily before it could bounce off of the person next to me…and then froze.

Lounging in the sea of dark skinned, dark haired people as I was, I hadn't noticed a certain Mr. Jared Brooks seated a mere two feet away from me. Once I did, I felt my stomach drop down to my toes. I hadn't been this close to him since…well…ever. It took all the self restraint I had not to reach out and touch his perfect chocolaty skin. And even then I couldn't help staring.

He was back, unharmed, and more beautiful than ever. His black shirt rippled tightly over newly acquired muscles, and his gorgeous midnight hair, once so long and glorious, was cut short above his ears. And I'd have sworn he had grown at least a good four inches since I'd last seen him. There was an almost angry set to his brow now – which I was majorly digging by the way – that made him look either deep in thought, or thoroughly pissed off. (He was talking to Paul, so I was willing to bet he was just pissed.)

It took me a few seconds to realize that I was gawking at his newly found splendor, mouth hanging open and all. My confused lungs were screaming at me, and it was only after I noticed people staring at _me_, that I realized why.

My sudden un-announced hyperventilation had caused a bit of an uproar among the surrounding students, and because word travels fast at QTS, Jared finally realized that the crazy-dying girl everyone was whispering about was me. He turned around to face me; back muscles tensing as he twisted.

_Sure,_ I thought. _The one time he notices me, and I look like a beached whale._

When he caught sight of me his eyes grew wide and I heard the breath catch in his throat. I thought it was because I was staring at him with my mouth open, but then his eyes softened, and a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. I snapped my mouth shut, thinking he was going to laugh at me. Tears stung my eyes as my face turned red, hot with rejection.

As one spilled over and trailed down my cheek my world was turned upside down. Jared raised his big hand to my face and wiped the tear away with his thumb. I gasped as our eyes met.

Jared fricken Brooks was _touching_ me. I probably would have screamed if I had been able to function.

And then just like that it was over. Jared pulled his hand away as if I had burned him, his perfect face contorted with confusion. He blinked a few times, his gaze flickering between me and his hand. He leapt to his feet and ran the other direction into the parking lot, Paul – the jerk – right on his tail.

Mr. Stone took to the stage, megaphone in hand, and introduced the staff and himself. I tried to ignore the sound of his voice and reached up to feel where Jared had touched my face. My hands were shaking and I thought I might puke because I couldn't understand the feeling in my stomach; but then I recognized it from the whisper of a dream.

I was now truly in love with Jared Brooks. Even though he had run away. Even though I still hadn't heard him speak. Even though he'd only just realized I existed…

He'd realized I'd existed. And that was enough to last me for the rest of my life.

Or at least another week.


	3. Chapter 3

**Howdy there folks! I know I know, I said this was just going to be a two-shot, but because of popular demand...it is now a full flegged story. I'm excited about it, because I love Jared and Kim, and so...here it is. Now I made this _super_ long, just for you...kind of by accident...but we'll pretend it was on purpose. I think it's pretty good, keeping up with the whole obsessed thing and all. If it's too much let me know, Please Please PLEASE review, especially if you want to see more of it.**

**Arriverderci.**

* * *

Leave it to the La Push Education System, to buy the crappiest, worst running hunks of junk for their children's transportation. The buses QTS students were forced into riding were without a doubt the lowest form of personal humiliation to _ever_ pass through the state of Washington.

The lucky students, got rides from their parents or siblings, and were saved the disgrace of being seen on one of the contraptions.

The rest of us, were humiliated each and every day, without fail.

Luckily for me, I had entertainment most of the time, in the form of one very tall, very handsome Mr. Jared Brooks. I never got tired of looking at him; ever. It was when he had his little _friend_ with him that things got ugly.

My hands closed around the imaginary neck in front of me, twisting and pulling until Carol Anne Fisher's imaginary self was purple all over.

_Dirty little slut._

Another giggle. More arm touching and eyelash batting.

_Don't you dare…_

And her hand slid down to rest on his thigh.

"Ugh!" I groaned in displeasure and collapsed dramatically into my friend Heather's arms. "Kill me Heather. Just kill me now and end my suffering." She patted my shoulder gently.

"Get over yourself Kimmy, worse things have happened."

"Yeah, like Pearl Harbor and the Crucifixion of Christ. Maybe the Watergate catastrophe, but we'll leave that up to Nixon."

Alright, so _maybe_ I was being a little melodramatic, but that little wench Carol had been wiping her filthy hands all over Jared for five minutes now, and I was starting to feel sick.

It had been two weeks since Jared had touched my face, since I had felt my heart filled to the breaking point. Two weeks since he ran away from me, and two weeks since the last time he smiled in my presence.

Every day since that…_episode_, he had been isolated, closed off from his friends. He didn't even talk to them at lunch, or make fun of Mrs. Dubose's hairdo in Health. I hadn't heard him speak since then, and my ears were not happy with that. Two weeks was an awfully long time to wait for the sound of someone's voice.

He had taken up a new hobby since that incident, but it was something I definitely could have lived without. Jared's latest obsession was glaring. At me. Every time I turned around – always discreetly – to steal a glance at his perfect face, _bam!_I was met with a glare so full of resentment and just plain _hatred_, that I had given up on my favorite past time – Jared watching – just to avoid the pain of it all.

What the hell had I _done_ to piss him off so badly? He was friends with _Paul Randle,_ Ass-hole Extraordinaire and I'd never seen him glare at anyone with the amount of venom he always shot me.

Was he angry that I had cried in front of him? Did it bother him that I'd been staring? Was he against the accidental throwing of drawing pencils?

Whatever it was, it had been something bad. Terrible. Catastrophic. Something had severed his very last nerve, and leave it up to good old fate; I was in his path of destruction.

"Kimberly Norene," Heather gasped and clutched at her heart, feigning surprise. "Are you…dare I say it? _Jealous_, of Carol?"

When it came to teasing, Heather was Queen. I couldn't get in _one_ slightly over-done episode of Jared-envy without her jumping all over it, poking fun in all the wrong places.

"Shut up Heather."

"Oh, Jared!" Carol giggled, three bus seats in front of us, and slid her hand down Jared's thigh to his knee.

My eye twitched.

Imaginary Carol was going to pay for this. I imagined sticking fire crackers in her ears, and let the explosion take care of the rest.

I looked up, to get the image of her exploding burned into my mind, and the broadest smile my face had ever held spread through my lips.

Oh yes, Carol was all over him, rubbing her hands in places she shouldn't and trying to make him like her; but Jared was a free-thinking man, and not even her dirty little Jezebel moves could corrupt his brain _that_ much.

What had the smile spreading across _my _face, was the look on _his_. As Carol crossed boundaries, his nose crinkled upwards like he smelled something foul. Jared looked at her like a piece of dog poop stuck on the bottom of his shoe, and it had me practically giddy.

"Heather," I whispered and tugged her forward so she could see what I was seeing. "Just _look_ at his face! He's disgusted! He doesn't like her, and that means that _sluts_ can't get through to him…oh what a day. Take _that_ Ms. Fisher!" My voice was absolutely exultant as I crowed my victory over the bimbo.

Leave it to Heather to smash my happiness.

"You know that's the same look he gives you all the time, right?"

If looks could kill, Heather would have been dead and buried.

xXx

It was only second period, and already my day was shot. Not only had Heather ruined my only glimmer of hope left, I'd failed my Chemistry final, and had only recently discovered that I now had a solid D minus in Mr. Phelps' class.

The cherry on top of this depressing little sundae, was Carol Fisher. Again.

Mr. Thompson, our World History teacher, had re-arranged the seating chart and I was now seated next to Carol herself…Whore-master and all her little cronies.

I was the only smart girl in the sea of stupid, an IQ island, if you will. So, instead of being able to hear the lecture on Hitler's invasion of Poland, I got to hear what Carol and the bimbo twins did for their "super fantabulous weekend."

"Did you go all the way with Eric yet?" Bimbo number one asked.

I hated the term "all the way," when people referred it to sex. It always made me think of grocery shopping, which made me think of my grandmother, and if two words were _never_ meant to be in a sentence together, they were _grandmother,_ and _sex._

"No," the second bimbo twin answered. "He's so…wholesome."

Eric Flores was the preacher's son. Wholesome? Gee, that's odd.

I could feel myself getting dumber with every passing second and I smacked my forehead to keep myself from totally losing it and unleashing my pent up energy on the class.

And then the door opened up. A cold blast of air blew in to greet us, and a hot piece of man filed in behind it.

My breathing hitched.

_Jared. Jared. Jared._

I couldn't help the smile that tugged on the corners of my lips. The very sight of him made my heart flutter.

Unfortunately, Carol _also_ noticed his appearance.

"Hey Jared!" She called, and I didn't have to look to know she was waving coyly at him.

My stomach convulsed; I couldn't help it. Weak gag reflex.

I followed his every move as he crossed the room to deliver the piece of paper in his hands to Mr. Thompson. The way his long legs carried him to his destination in a few long strides; the pull of his back muscles as he reached down – my, my he _was _getting tall wasn't he? – to hand the note to the teacher.

While Mr. Thompson read, Jared glanced over his shoulder at the waving lunatic that sat behind me. I cringed away from his eyes, so that maybe he wouldn't notice me and wouldn't glare, but there was no need.

He saw me – looked right at me he did – and he just…smiled.

My mouth fell open. Had he just…was he…No. Impossible.

I looked at him again, planning to see the imagined smile replaced with the more realistic glare, but again, I found his dazzling smile.

What kind of alternate universe was this? _Jared,_ smiling at _me_?

I glanced quickly over my shoulder at Carol, to see if I had misinterpreted this smile as mine, when really it was meant for the slut, but she looked just as mystified as I did.

Jared was leaning down, whispering with Mr. Thompson when I looked back in his direction, and that gave me time for my heart to calm down.

I focused on breathing evenly while the teacher scribbled something on Jared's note, and passed it back to him.

He turned, almost in slow motion, and kept his eyes on me the entire time.

_I must be dreaming._ I thought logically, and pinched my leg under the desk, just to check.

_Ow. Nope. Not dreaming._

"Hey, Jared." Carol cooed, trying – desperately now – to grab his attention.

But his eyes stayed locked with mine. As he passed my desk his hand brushed it lightly and he smiled even wider.

"Hey, Kim."

Carol and I gasped at the same time.

xXx

It was lunch time, and I walked to the cafeteria in a daze. More than anything I wanted to spill my guts all over Heather, to rub it in her face because Jared had said _hey_ to _me_ during history, but she didn't have the same lunch as me, so it would have to wait.

Without my Queen-Teaser to eat with, lunch time could get a bit tedious. Between arguing with Taylor Keen over football teams, and yawning at Sarah Bradley when she launched into her in-depth make-up discussions, my life was rather dull. (Aside from the very rare – but always worth noticing – appearance from Jared.)

I would have taken on the Seahawks discussion and mascara versus eyeliner gladly though, to avoid what was waiting for me in the cafeteria _that_ day.

I slammed my locker and trudged to our usual lunch table with my paper-sack in hand. I remember wondering why everyone was running towards the cafeteria, excited whispers and yelled encouragements echoing back into the hallway where the senior lockers were. I thought nothing of it, probably just our spirit squad doing some stupid pep-rally or something, - complete with ditzy cheerleaders bouncing up and down - and squeezed through the crowd to join my friends at our table.

As soon as I entered the circle everything went silent. _This_ was not a reaction I was accustomed to, so naturally I looked up to see what the sudden silence was about.

Had one of the cheerleaders fallen off of the pyramid? That would be worth seeing; if nothing else.

But every eye in the room was focused very clearly, on me. Me, and the very angry Carol Fisher storming in my direction. The bimbo twins stood on either side of her, looking just as pissed and edgy, though slightly less focused.

Picture the three stooges. I'll let you decide who is who.

"What is your problem Kim?" Carol hummed dangerously when she was close enough to me to have my throat constricting. Did she _dip_ herself in perfume every morning?

One of my eyebrows shot up in confusion. My problem? Oh, I was in love with a boy who hated me, maybe, kind of…I wasn't really sure about that anymore.

I was stuck between her and her stupid-ass friends for second period, and my Chemistry grade was lower in the alphabet than hers.

But that wasn't what she meant, not at all.

"I don't know what you mean."

She took a warning step closer to me, her eyes blaring in fury. It occurred to me that she wanted to fight me – and I had to choke back laughter.

_Oh, this oughta be good._

"You know _exactly_ what I mean." Carol snarled, and my eyebrow shot up again. "Jared is _mine._" Her voice rose in pitch as she tried to sound intimidating. She failed that as bad as she had her last biology test.

Just to set the record straight, I was no tough cookie. I wasn't athletic or muscular, just scrawny and short with about as much muscle as a clam. It took a lot for me to feel tough in front of anyone, but the thing with Carol Fisher was that she couldn't _intimidate_ anyone to save her life.

Constantly covered in pink and frilly little clothes as she was, she had the terror factor of a miniature poodle. Puppy. A miniature poodle _puppy._

Standing in front of her, made me feel pretty good about myself tough wise.

That is, until the bimbo twins pulled their pampered little heads out of the clouds and came to the rescue of their master.

The odds shifted drastically.

The Bimbo Twins were _the_ stupidest individuals I had ever met. They probably had just enough brain power to light up a tiny light bulb somewhere in Whoville. Well, maybe. If they combined their brains and had to decide between purple or _aqua_ shoes for prom…then _maybe_ they could do it.

But, dim – no pun intended – as they were, they were two of the best female athletes at QTS. Bimbo-One ran track, did the hurdles and threw Shot-put, so not only was she one hell of a runner, she could haul weight like no tomorrow. Bimbo-Two played soccer and pitched softball, so she was also not a bad runner, had a kick like Mia Hamm, and could probably throw a mean right hook. (As I was about to find out.)

Before I could duck or back up or yell for Scooby and Shaggy to come save me, one of their fists smashed into my jaw - hard. I stumbled backwards into the crowd, trying to ignore the stars dancing in front of my eyes as best as was humanly possible.

The jerks behind me – probably special friends with the bimbo's – pushed me back into my attacker's arms.

I stumbled into Carol, and of course she let me hit the ground. I tried to curl myself into a ball, so that whatever was going to happen next wouldn't hurt as bad, but the kick came before I thought of it.

One of their feet smashed into my ribs and I whimpered, trying not to cause too much of a commotion because that would only egg them on. I felt the rush of air again, and prepared myself for another kick; but it never came.

My eyes fluttered open and I gazed up at a familiar face. Too familiar.

"Kim?" Jared's voice shouted, though he sounded far away.

I tried to fight the reaction, but it was too strong.

I puked. All over Jared's shoes.

This had been officially labeled as _The_worst day of my life. Ever. In the history of forever…_the_ worst day.

I remembered a note from my father this morning, left on the fridge for me to find.

_**I'm going to leave the new car in the parking lot today, please drive it home for me Kimberly. Your brother's got a dentist appointment and I'm picking him up, so don't wait for him.**_

_**Love, Dad.**_

So, at least there was something to look forward too. I could make a quick and timely escape in our new Lexus.


	4. Chapter 4

**_Howdy. _Well once again my pets, you benifit from my weak immune system. Yes that's right...I've gone and gotten myself sick again. You get another chapter out of it, and I BETTER get more reviews out of it...lol. My collection for this story is seriously lacking, and, as of now, I am _not_ updating again until I have at least 25. Call me greedy...I just really want to know what you guys are thinking!  
****Read, review be merry...Arriverderci!  
**

* * *

Oh shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

How was I going to explain this to my father?

"_The pole just jumped in front of the car daddy, I swear!"_ My dad was many things, but one thing he was not, was stupid.

I _could_ tell him I swerved to avoid hitting something, but he always knew it when I was lying. When I broke the crystal vase in the hallway and blamed it on my brother, he'd grounded me for two weeks. One week, for breaking something worth more than our car, and the other, for lying about it.

Nope, I wasn't going to be able to lie my way out of this one. But I wanted more than anything to avoid telling the truth.

How do you explain to your father that the reason you crashed the new _expensive _car into a telephone pole, was because you were daydreaming about the boy you loved? I think he'd rather hear the lie.

I choked on the smoke and fumes rising from the pulverized engine, and then shivered because the rain had completely soaked through my clothes at this point. My jaw ached from the punch I'd received, and my ribs sent spasms of pain through my entire body with each and every breath. Add that to the freezing rain, and I was in for a mighty big hurt tomorrow.

Naturally the chilly downpour did nothing to put out the flames in my car, but it had no problem freezing me half to death. Oh no, that was just too easy for the damn rain clouds.

"Hey guys, lets ruin Kim's day. Since she's been having such a _good_ one so far." I put on a comical voice and moved my arms in wacky patterns, illustrating the rain clouds evil. Then my shoulders slumped and I dropped my head. "Great!" I shouted. "Now I'm talking to rain clouds!" I swung my foot out and kicked the ground, stubbing my toe in the process. I groaned. I just couldn't do anything right today; I was pretty positive that Jared had melted my brain.

"I talk to the clouds all the time. They aren't very good conversation though, are they?"

Sarcasm. From a low husky voice that was so deeply familiar my chest practically collapsed in on itself. If I hadn't known _exactly_ who it was, I probably would have turned right around and punched them in the nose. The bimbo twins and their master had made me _that_ angry.

But, I could find too many problems with that plan of action to actually do it. First of all, my right hook was as weak as Steve Urkel's. And second, I'd already embarrassed myself in front of Jared enough for one day.

My hands started shaking, and not from the cold this time. Why oh _why_ did _he_ have to be the one to find me here, on a deserted back road, after crashing my car because I couldn't stop thinking about _him_?

"Are you alright?" I heard the gravel crunch as he took a few steps closer to me. The breath seemed stuck in my throat; like molasses.

I was a frozen Jared-crazed Popsicle. Just fabulous.

I wish I could have answered; said something smart and funny, maybe even made a joke about my excellent vomit-pyrotechnic display. But no, I didn't grunt or squeak or bark or nod. I just stood there like a deer caught in headlights; not breathing, not blinking…I don't even think my heart was beating.

_Crunch. Crunch._ He took a few more steps forward. He was so close I could see his breath in the air over my left shoulder.

"Hey, you okay?" His hand touched the small of my back and every nerve in my body short circuited. I leapt forward, suddenly very alive and…not frozen. I was shaking so hard I was almost convulsing as I stumbled backwards, then faltered, and fell flat on my back into a puddle.

_Whoop-de-do!_ My cynical mind shouted. _Wasn't that a _refreshing_ little dip?_

"Whoa!" Jared shouted. I have no idea what his face must have looked like- terrified no doubt; I was too mortified by my own stupidity to lift my head and look. I could feel the murky puddle-water lapping at my sides and soaking into my hair. My tailbone ached from hitting the pavement and I thought my head might be bleeding, but I could not – would not move.

"Shit," I heard him mutter and then he was leaning over me, his eyebrows set in a concerned line. His eyes were roaming over my body, his hands fluttering above mine. "I didn't mean to scare you!" His voice shook, and my heart soared. Jared Brooks was talking to me, he had touched me, and now he was worried about me; maybe this day wasn't as bad as I'd been thinking.

I mumbled something un-intelligible as he pulled me – almost effortlessly – to my feet. I wobbled when he let go of me, but it was not because of my bleeding head, as he thought. It was because he had _let go_, and that was just not fair. He caught me again – of course – and held me still while he looked me in the eyes. I almost melted in his hands, turned into a puddle of goop and slithered away. He was _that_ overwhelming.

"Are you alright?"

The car behind us gave a frightening _pop_ and he pulled me into his chest and away from the apparently exploding car.

I groaned. _Now_ how was I going to explain this to my father? I had a bruise on my face and probably some cracked ribs. The school had no doubt contacted him by now about my involvement with on-campus violence. I'd just crashed the car he'd been saving three years to buy, into a telephone pole.

And now it was exploding.

Something told me I wouldn't be getting that raise on my allowance any time soon.

xXx

When you're a little kid, and your mom makes you watch those princess movies like Cinderella and Snow White, it's hard for you to understand the emotions portrayed. If they kiss, it's _icky_. If they say they're in love with one another after thirty seconds of eye contact, they are. You're too young to understand that there's no such thing as love at first sight; that if some guy you'd known for an hour tried to kiss you, you would _smack_ him, not _mack_ him.

Then, as you grow up things are thrown into a more…realistic light, and you begin to wonder why you ever believed in love. You deny the fact that you ever dreamed about Prince Charming, and maybe even make fun of his girly singing voice with your friends; but there's always a hint of a lie in all that truth. Sure his lips are too red and his hair's too long, maybe his junk shows through his tights and his little elf shoes are too small for his feet, but he's _Prince Charming,_ and there's always a part of a girls heart that yearns after him. After the perfect man, who will sweep you off of your feet and carry you home on his beautiful white stallion, where you will live happily ever after.

My dream never died. I've always had a Prince Charming in my life, always believed in love and miracles. So as Jared drove me home in his red jeep, while I sat on a towel so I couldn't get his seats wet with my puddle-butt – I daydreamed.

I shot glances over at his sculpted face, and tried to imagine what it would feel like to kiss those lips. My fingers twitched, feeling his hands grasping them in a warm embrace. Every muscle in my body ached for the boy that sat so close to me I could hear his breath over the hum of the engine, and part of me wondered what would happen if I reached out, and took his hand. There it was, resting lightly on his knee as he drove, looking so lonely and in need of warmth…

My arm hovered over my knee, ready to make the grab. His finger twitched; _so lonely_.

I readied myself, my arm already snaking out towards his hand…and then the jeep hit a dip in the road and lurched forward.

A tiny embarrassing squeak escaped my lips, and I reddened automatically, pulling my extended limb inward.

"Sorry," Jared murmured, and his lonely hand drifted up to the steering wheel. _How depressing._

I crossed my arms and gave up on my daydreaming.

Jared was too good for me; he would never be my Prince Charming. He would never whisk me away and tell me he loved me…he could barely speak in my presence. I fingered the bruise that was forming on my jaw – my souvenir from one of the bimbo's – and tried to ignore the stabbing pain in my ribs. My butt and head hurt from biffing it into the puddle, and I was soaked through with freezing rain and puddle water. To top it all off I now had a steadily growing throbbing ache, somewhere deep inside my chest for my lost prince…though I'd never really had one to begin with.

I felt his gaze like a burning on the back of my head, and I turned to face Jared.

_Easy girl,_ I told myself, but I could hardly listen.

"Are you okay?" He asked me for what felt like the millionth time that day. It took me a few moments to realize that we had stopped moving, and we were now parked in front of my house. How had he…?

"I'm fine." My voice was so quiet he had to lean forward to catch what I was saying, and when he did I leaned away, gasping loudly. He straightened, and apologetic grin on his face.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

"No I wasn't scared, I'm…" _A spastic retard who can't breathe in your presence?_ "I'm fine."

_Just friggin peachy._

* * *

Heh...favorite line ever: Smack him, not mack him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Howdy all. I feel kind of guilty for not updating BFF, and updating this; but you have to understand. I am at a serious, SERIOUS roadblock on that one. I will DEFINITELY update it eventually, I just don't know when that will be. As for this, it might be on hold soon too. My aunt died today -it's a long story- so updating probably wont happen on _either_ for at least another week. But then again, I could be struck with creativity-lighting and update sooner. I don't know...we'll find out. This chapter was kind of...accidental. I went to Costco today so that's where the idea came from. Kind of. Either way, read, review, be merry. Make me feel better please. :( **

**DISCLAIMER: Own the padre and their last names. Yup. That's it.**

**Arrivederci.**

* * *

"Homework done?"

"Yes."'

"Chores finished?"

"Yup."

"Room cleaned?"

"I believe that counts as a _chore,_ Dad."

"Just answer the question Kimberly."

"Yes."

I groaned and slid myself off of the ancient-butt-callusing bar stool at our kitchen counter. It was a Saturday, a weekend, and I was grounded. Not only that – it was _sunny_. La Push got an average of twenty-six sunny days a year; and I was stuck inside for the first one in three months.

My father was running out of excuses to keep me inside though – he whined that I was a "strangely compliant teenager." All my chores for the weekend were finished, I had no homework left, - because I'd finished it - and both of my brothers were down in Oregon with our uncle, so I couldn't get stuck watching them. The house was virtually deserted. A barren wasteland of bleach-scented monotony, and I was caged inside.

The punishment was _totally_ worse than the crime. I'd crashed his new car…and then a strange boy had driven me home…and I'd been in a fight at school…and I'd failed my Chemistry test…

Okay, so maybe I wasn't as mad about being grounded as I was trying to act.

"Well then…why don't you start cooking dinner?"

Ah, Daddy; he hated to admit defeat.

"Dad, it's eleven in the morning."

My father scrunched his forehead so hard I could see the lines on his shiny bald head. Ehem, excuse me.Bald_ing._

"It never hurts to plan ahead." His bottom lip jutted out to a dangerous level and I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

We sat for what seemed like hours facing off across the granite island. No sound. No speech. Just…silence.

So. Boring.

"You'll run errands for me." He announced triumphantly, and I groaned. Alright fine, so he still had me on a leash – but he blinked first. "We need groceries and one of my suits needs to be dry cleaned for work on Monday." Why a mail man needed a suit, I'll never know.

"You're going to trust me with the car?" I asked. He bit his lip and crinkled his bald_ing_ head again.

_Hah! Caught you!_

"I'll go with you Kim."

_Or not._

xXx

An hour later I was standing elbow deep in frozen corn while my father debated between _yellow_ or _white._

"Hurry up Dad this is _freezing_!" He scratched his chin and cocked his head to the side like a puppy.

"Well they say yellow corn has more calcium," all the fingers on my right hand went numb. "But white corn has more iron." Then the left hand went.

"Dad!"

"Oh just put them both in the cart; we'll mix them together for dinner tonight."

_Oh no, I've gone cross eyed._

"Fine." I ripped out two of the bags and threw them into the cart with a loud grunt of displeasure.

He checked the list, scratched out _corn_, and moved on to the next item.

"Do you need…um, _lady products_ Kimmy?" I froze in the process of rubbing my arms back to life. Lady products?

"Yeah…" The air between us was suddenly very tense and awkward. I think I heard him gulp.

This is where life without a mom got…difficult. _I_ was usually on shopping duty when the need for _lady products_ arose, so there was no awkwardness there. I'd never needed them on a shopping trip with my _father._ Just grand.

"Well uh, I'll let you go um…get…those." He made it sound like a question. "I'll be in the Deli." He finally blurted, and towed the cart away.

Futher Mucker. That _so _took the cake for "strange encounters with my dad."

At least I was alone now, and luckily, I knew my way through the aisles pretty well so finding the…feminine supplies was no problem. Being Costco, tampons came in a big gigantic box with bright labels and just enough foreign print to occupy your attention.

"Well _that's_ going to be fun to carry around." I muttered and heaved the box off of the shelf and into my arms. It was heavy, and the sharp corners dug into my wrists as I trudged towards the Deli where my father was probably hyperventilating over _spiced_ or _honeyed _ham. The poor man couldn't make a decision to save his own life.

I rounded a corner that _should_ have brought me right to the meats counter, but instead I was met by the freezing fresh-produce locker.

_Odd._ Deciding they must have re-modeled since the last time we'd been here, I tentatively stepped into the new and unfamiliar territory. I felt disoriented and confused – and then stupid because I was lost in a _Costco._ How. Lame.

So I closed my eyes, took three steadying breaths, then opened them and tried to get my bearings again.

And then I wished I hadn't.

"Oh shit." My eyes darted down to the brightly colored and labeled box in my arms. Nowhere to hide it. Unfamiliar territory. Could the word "tampon" _be_ any bigger?

_Damn it all._

I slammed my eyes shut and imagined I was a little kid again. _I can't see you. You can't see me._

The logic was as warped now as it was then, and I gave up the effort when I heard footsteps approaching me. I did something I hadn't done in four months; I prayed.

_Please God. Smite me._ _Right now._

"Kim?"

_Please, please, please, please…_

"Kim is that you?"

_I wonder what he would do if I said no._

"Yes." I squeaked and pried one eye open to see his reaction. He was smiling – my heart melted. Jared.

"You know that game only works if you're playing hide and seek right?" His smile turned coy and I _had_ to open the other eye to take in the beauty.

_I take it back God. Keep me here._

"What game?" My voice was light and airy – I wanted to gag myself for it. I sounded high.

"The 'I-close-my-eyes-and-I'm-invisible game.'" Jared was standing so close I could smell his cologne; which was both a good thing and a very, very, humongously bad thing. Good, because it smelled delicious and only added to the pleasure of the moment – bad because he was now close enough to read the box I held like a dead weight.

His gaze flickered for only one second to the beacon of embarrassment, but that was enough. His dark eyes widened and he twisted his lip into his mouth so he could bite down on it. Then his eyes shot back up to mine and I felt the red creeping up my neck, heating my face and ears until I was sure I looked like a tomato.

_A tomato holding a tampon box. Now _there's_ an image for you._

This was my second silent face off of the day – I'd had about enough of them.

"Erm," I started, trying to play it off that I hadn't noticed that he'd noticed. "How – how are you?"

_Nice Kim._

"I'm fine." _How_ could he deal with embarrassment so well? It was mind boggling.

"That's good." My throat gurgled on the word 'good.'

_Oh, now that is _quite_ attractive._

I shifted the heavy box uncomfortably in my arms and tried hiking it up into a more natural position. If there is a more natural position for a tampon box.

"Do you um – want some help with that?" Jared raised an eyebrow and the box slipped down my arm. I squeaked and caught it before it could hit the ground, but one of the corners dug into my arm.

"Ow! Damn it, ow!" I balanced the cursed thing on one arm and checked my injury; it was bleeding.

_Just friggin glorious._

"Are you okay?"

If I had a nickel for every time he asked me that…

"Yeah," I lied and covered the gaping _wound_ with the box.

"Do you want some help carrying that? It's no trouble, really." I narrowed my eyes. Why would he – would any man really – volunteer to carry a box of tampons? Again, Jared boggled my brain.

"Uh, sure." I held it out like an offering. I think I meant to do it as a test, to see if he was really offering, or just trying to seem gallant; but he took it without hesitation.

_He's the best thing since sliced bread._

"Where's your cart?" He asked totally un-phased. The way he handled the situation calmed me down, and I was finally able to speak without gurgling or hurting myself.

"In the deli section with-" Gulp. My dad. He and Jared already had a bit of a rocky past and if my dad saw Jared with me – his daughter – sparks would fly. My father had never technically been introduced to Jared, but you better believe he glared through the window at him until the Jeep was out of our driveway. The fact that I'd been in the car with an unknown penis bearing human was the most horrific thing my father could imagine.

I wanted all parties to make it out of this situation alive and un-harmed, but as we neared the Deli section, I couldn't see how that would happen.

"I think this is the strangest way I've ever met a girl's father." My heart fluttered at the idea. Jared. Meeting my _father._

"What, you mean carrying a huge box of tampons?"

"Yup."


	6. Chapter 6

**Howdy. Sorry these updates aren't very...consistent. I haven't had a load of time to write - or the inspiration to be honest. DON'T WORRY. I'm not abandoning ANY of my stories, they're just...on delay for the time being. I do have something to say about BFF though: it probably won't be uptated for a long time. Sorry for the bad news, and I hope that doesn't piss anybody off too badly, but it is neccessary. There are some things I need to publish before I even think about continuing that one - because there's too much that has to happen before the conflict in BFF can happen. So I'm sincerly sorry for the wait, and I really hope I don't lose readers over it.**

**This story though will continue to get updates. The ball is rolling and there's no way I can stop it, so keep reading. Read, review, be merry...and don't be mad at me. :)**

**Oh! And I have some pictures up on my profile that might interest you. I need some help though. I need to find someone that looks like Claire for BFF, and I need someone that looks like Jared for this. Please PM me (or say it in the review) and I'll totally consider your opinion!**

**DISCLAIMER: Trust me. I don't own them. Never will, never have. I'm just borrowing them for a little while.**

* * *

_He hasn't noticed us yet._ I thought, as I figuratively – or literally – walked Jared to his death. _Maybe we can just sneak by without him seeing…_

My father's head swiveled to the right, and locked on Jared's face.

_Shit._

His jaw clenched and his eyes bulged out to the size of tennis balls. Well, at least I would die in the presence of Jared…

I noticed that the vein on the side of my combusting father's neck throbbed with our footsteps. Every time we drew closer to him, it tried to jump out of his body – or at least that's how it looked.

I honestly couldn't fathom why my father hated Jared so…venomously. I'd had boyfriends before – always in the vain hope that they would make Jared jealous - and Dad hadn't even hated _them _that much. Jared hadn't even _hugged _me before, and my father glared at him like he'd impregnated me.

How could _anybody_ hate Jared Brooks?

"Wait," Jared stopped walking and I noticed his hands were shaking. It struck me as odd that a big guy like Jared would be frightened by my short, middle-aged, balding father; but I tried not to dwell on it. "_That's_ your dad Kim?"

My eyebrow shot up. "Um…yeah, why?" I looked up to see that he was frowning deeply; it was obvious that his thoughts were somewhere else. Somewhere far away.

Jared stared off into space for a few more seconds, and then he blinked and shook his head like he was returning to his body. He beamed down at me and I almost fainted.

_So. Hot._ My mind panted. I had to control this painful obsession over him in his presence – if I wasn't careful I would be reduced to a slimy puddle of Kim.

"Never mind, let's bring him the goods." He adjusted the box of _feminine products_ in his arms and winked.

I didn't want to be the one to cause his death, but because he was Jared, and because I was intoxicated by his very presence, my feet reacted without my knowing it.

Before I could focus on anything other than the fact that Jared Brooks was carrying _my_ box of tampons, we stood not ten feet from my father.

I wish I had been paying more attention. I wish I had noticed my father's hands, balled into fists at his sides and shaking like they wanted to hit something. I wish I had noticed the way his lip was pulled back in a snarl, almost like he was growling at the boy walking with me.

And I _really_ wish I had seen the "wet floor" sign that separated us. Really, _really_ wish I'd seen that one.

But, because I'm Kim and karma hates me, I didn't. I stepped too hard on the wet concrete flooring, and totally biffed it right in the middle of the deli.

The first thought I had was: _I hope I don't get my butt all wet again. _The second was: _This better be a dream._

I closed my eyes, waiting for my back to meet the floor; but it never happened.

Jared had the best reflexes I'd ever seen – or rather, felt. Before I was even horizontal his left arm shot out and gripped me firmly behind my back. My body was stuck in a forty-five degree angle, and Jared stood over me, his head inclined slightly towards mine.

If everyone in Costco hadn't seen me slip, they might have thought we were dancing, and Jared had just gone down for a dip.

This all happened in about ten seconds, and I don't think I was breathing for any of them. My eyes were locked with Jared's, their dark chocolaty depths boring into my soul. His full lips pulled up into a small smile and he leaned forward.

My heart stopped. Everything in my body froze. I thought he was going to kiss me – I wanted him to so badly.

But he didn't stop at my lips; he kept going until his mouth was level with my ear.

"I think you're falling for me again Kim."

_No freaking duh. _

I laughed nervously. His breath tickled my neck, and it made my thoughts so hazy I could hardly function, let alone come up with a clever comeback. He was _so close._ My back burned where he held me, still leaning back as if we were frozen in some kind of phantom waltz, and I wasn't sure if it was from his warm body heat, or my own nerves short circuiting.

My eyes shifted to the side, and were caught in his perfect gaze again.

_Lord almighty._

What happened next is just another reason I have to shoot my father. Now, not only is he going to die because he likes five o'clock in the morning, but he's going to die because he makes _everything_ overly awkward. Everything.

"Don't you touch her!" I heard his voice, I saw him coming, but I couldn't move or react…I could barely breathe – higher brain function was so out of my reach it's not even funny.

Jared heard. Jared reacted. He stood up straight and righted me on my feet. I was dismayed to feel his hand slide off of my back; but – and this might just have been wishful thinking- I thought it lingered way longer than necessary before pulling away.

So at leas there was that.

Before I could even suck in my first breath in minutes, my father yanked me to his side, smacking my hip into the cart and causing me to stumble.

Jared growled.

Yes, I said it – he actually _growled._ Like an angry Rottweiler.

_Odd._

Unlike it would have done with anyone else, the growling just made him cuter in my opinion.

My father didn't seem to think that way.

"Let's go home Kimberly." He snarled. Not like a Rottweiler, but it still was not a comforting tone.

"We're not done yet-"

"Let's go _home._" He never took his gaze off of Jared, and I felt for the adorable growling Kim-Catcher. It was not fun to be under my father's glare – I knew that better than anyone.

"Oo-kay." I looked around my father's body to smile sympathetically at Jared. He didn't even look phased, he just stared right back at my father. They were locked in what seemed like a battle of the ages.

All in our friendly neighborhood Costco.

My gaze flickered down to the neon colored box Jared still clutched like a lifeline to earth, and I almost laughed. All this for a box of tampons.

Dad noticed about the same time I did. He lunged forward and snatched it out of Jared's arms.

"Give me that," he huffed. I was starting to worry about his blood pressure. My father was no spring chicken, and that vein in the side of his neck was pulsing _awfully_ hard.

Jared muttered something, locked eyes with me one more time, and turned to jog out the garage-door style entrance.

I watched him go with a heavy heart and burning lungs – I still hadn't taken a breath.

My lungs almost sang as I gulped the air Jared had been breathing only seconds before.

"Come on Kim." My father muttered and towed me to the exit by my elbow. I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to ask him why the _hell_ he had to be such an ass-hole; why he had to ruin my life every chance he had; but something held me back.

"Dad we don't have the cart with us."

"Leave it."

"But-"

"I said leave it Kimberly! We're going home."

xXx

The ride home was a tense affair. I'd never felt more awkward to be with my father, and yes, that included the incident earlier that morning with the _feminine product_ conversation.

To be honest, I was kind of scared of him. I'd never seen him go off on anyone like that. He didn't yell at my brother when he caught him drinking tequila with his friends in our basement. He didn't yell at me when I crashed the car and got in a fight at school; but he'd yelled at Jared. A complete stranger, who had only ever helped his daughter out.

What the hell was going on?

The only thing I could think of was that maybe the two had a past I wasn't aware of; but that wasn't possible. I'd made a point over the years, of never showing, mentioning, or even thinking about Jared in my father's presence. So how could he know him?

I climbed the stairs in my house with my head in the clouds.

Something was going on that I didn't know about.

And I didn't like it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Howdy. Ahh, this chapter's an interesting one. I love it, even though it might be a bit confusing at first. Kim's brothers are just great. They're my favorite. Sadly, no Jared in this chapter; though obviously he's mentioned - a lot - because he's pretty much all Kim thinks about right? Well anyways, I just love this chapter, and I don't know why. Maybe it's because it's finally looking like summer in Washington - maybe it's the fact that I got the new Coldplay CD - or maybe it is just a good chapter. We'll find out won't we? Read, review, be merry. I love you guys. :)**

**DISCLAIMER: I own Lucas, Brandon, El Madre, El Padre, and the last names. :)**

* * *

My ceiling was giving me a migraine. Somewhere hidden within its twisting vines of green and pink, lurked the answer to my mystery: what the hell was going on between Jared Brooks and my father?

Seventeen glow-in-the-dark stars stuck up with gum and squished up marshmallows. Six nails showing through the cracked fiber-glass. Thirteen paint splatters from art projects gone awry. Two spitballs – courtesy of Lucas and Brandon, my brothers. Nine dents from the days of indoor hockey, and one flickering plastic chandelier.

These were the things I found on my ceiling, but no answers.

I figured maybe the walls could solve the conundrum, so I let my gaze slither down to the hot-pink psychedelic travesty.

Three pictures of Lucas, Brandon and I hiking in Montana. One picture of my father and me standing outside the QTS gym for my first dance. Seven Polaroid photos of my friends camping with my family in Wyoming.

And then the one picture my gaze always lingered on, no matter how hard I tried to ignore it. A beautiful dark haired woman sat on a wicker bench, with the sun shining down on her slender features. Her dark red lips were parted in laughter as she gazed down at the two giggling toddlers in her arms. All three looked perfectly happy and content, except for one small detail: the womans eyes were scratched out.

The toddlers giggling on her lap were my brother and I – the photo was taken before Brandon had been born, back when we were a family of four. Lucas looked so much like my father in that picture it was all too easy to see the balding black hair and moustache on his little baby face. But me, I looked like the woman. Our mother.

It's not something I was proud of.

I groaned and rolled over on my bed, letting my messy hair fall into my face and closed my eyes.

Memory lane held no answers for me either, only pain and anger.

"Oh, come on!" My father shouted from downstairs. I cracked one eye to check the time, and then laughed to myself. Sunday Night Football always got him excited and agitated, especially if the Seahawks were losing. By the sound of his distress, the other team had just scored.

I heard a knock on my door and I groaned my consent for them to come in. I didn't have to look to know who it was.

"You okay Kim?" Brandon poked his shaggy little head in the doorway and then raised an eyebrow.

"I'm fine," my answer went into the pillow.

"Cool." Our youngest brother was twelve years old, with big ears and an under bite. He was just entering the stage where girls lost their cooties, and the Power Rangers were passé. Brandon was a cute kid – despite the obvious maladies – and he always had something to say that was way beyond his years. The Einstein of his time, he was our families little Freud; if you had a problem, you took it to Brand.

A shadow crossed the doorway and I sat up to peek at Lucas through the inch of space between the door and the frame.

"You can come in Luke."

He paused in the hall like he really had to think about it, - doubtful, my brother rarely thought about anything – and then pushed the door open and lumbered in.

Lucas wasn't really _fat_ exactly, just…big. He had a lot of muscle - I mean like, over eighty percent of his body, a lot. He always reminded me of that big puffy rock guy from Fantastic Four, you know, the one that yelled, "It's bashin' time!" The kids on the baseball team at school called him The Incredible Hulk, because that's the only way you could describe him without using words like 'gargantuan' or 'gigantic.'

But he was a big teddy bear of a brother and I probably would have hugged him a lot more often if he didn't always smell like a locker room.

"I heard about the thing at Costco yesterday with Dad and that Jared guy." He thundered and flopped onto the foot of my bed. I bounced up like we were on opposite ends of a teeter-totter.

This news shocked me. Lucas had taken Brandon down to the Oregon Coast for the weekend – there was no possible way they could have heard about it unless…

"Did Dad tell you about that?" I asked and looked to Brandon for an answer. He just smiled from his seat in the far corner of my room, where he had his knees pulled into his chest like he was cramped for space.

"Nah, Brand did." Lucas answered. My eyes narrowed.

"_How_ do you know everything Brandon?"

"Call it intuition." Like I said, the kid was a genius. I didn't even know what intuition meant at twelve, and he used it in every day conversation like it was no big deal.

"Well 'Mr. Intuition,' do you know why he went off like that?" The ceiling couldn't answer my question, so maybe the dweeby little brother could.

"_That_ I don't know. But I'll find out." I believed him.

"Hey," Lucas interrupted and we both shot him a look. "Did you know Uncle John was coming over?" _Okay, random._

"No."

"Yeah, apparently Dad has to talk to him about something real important." Lucas picked something out from under his fingernail while Brandon and I stared at him with our mouths hanging open. Did _Lucas_, the Twinkie consuming, Halo playing Neanderthal actually know something before _Brandon_?

_There's a shocker._

"Do you know what he has to talk to him about?" Brandon asked.

"Nah, but it's_ gotta_ be something real important the way I see it – since they haven't talked to each other in what…three years?"

The boys went off into a conversation that had my mind reeling – their psychology was dizzying – but I didn't really pay attention their ramblings. There was a monster in the back of my brain, trying to claw its way out and it made my stomach turn. For some reason my mind kept connecting the outburst with Jared yesterday, and my uncle's sudden and unexpected visit – like there was something missing there that I couldn't see but knew on some subconscious level.

It was absolutely maddening.

There had to be something there, I knew the answer; I was sure of it. The connection just wasn't happening in my brain to make it clear.

Uncle John probably didn't even _know_ Jared…how could the two events be synonymous?

xXx

I woke up the next morning with a killer headache – either from staring at my psychedelic ceiling for so long, or from my brother's late night rambling I wasn't sure. When I tried to kick the covers off and head for the bathroom, I found it impossible to move my legs. With a groan I pushed myself up and found the answer snoring where I'd left him last night.

"Lucas!" I shouted and he rolled off the bed in surprise.

"Wha-" he mumbled, wiping the trail of slobber off of his face. Under normal circumstances I would have laughed at the drooping eyelids he fought to keep up, but I felt like crap and that just made it annoying.

"You were crushing my feet!" I heard whimpering under the bed and frowned. We didn't have a dog…did we?

"Who's yelling?" Oh, right. Brandon. Baby Einstein had crawled under the bed to sleep last night.

I kneaded my forehead with the palm of my hand, trying to scare away the headache. I could _not_ miss school today – we had first semester finals in English and if I missed them I would be repeating my senior year…which was not an option if I ever wanted to get out of my father's house.

"Go get ready for school," I ordered the sixth grader and stumbled towards my door.

"But I don't want to go to school," he groaned. I tried to whirl around so I could yell at him but spinning made me nauseous. I got half-way through my rotation, then my foot got caught up in a shirt left on the floor – between that, and my spinning head, I toppled to the ground and bashed my forehead into the garbage can. _Holy frigging mother of Ow._

The contents of the bin emptied into my hair as I moaned in pain.

_God, I hate Monday's. _

xXx

I knew why everyone was staring as I boarded the bus, and it had nothing to do with the fact that my twelve year old brother was keeping me from collapsing.

Head bandages and _gigantic_ Medusa hair catch people's attention pretty quickly.

Brandon helped me to my seat in the back of the bus like the little goody-two-shoes he was, and then walked back to the front to take his place with the other dweeby little middle school kids.

I was probably being un-fair to the boy. After all, he _had_ bandaged my head up for me, _and_ helped me pull all the little pieces of pencil shavings out of my hair that the garbage can had oh so _graciously_ dumped on me.

Okay, I was being totally unfair but I had a headache, made worse by the fact that it was also _bleeding._ I had a right to be bitchy.

"Holy shit Kim!" Heather screamed when I slumped down next to her in the seat. "Did you get in a fight with The Terminator or something?"

I winced.

"Must you be so loud?" I snapped and picked at the tape holding my bandage on.

"Oh," she lowered her voice. _Thank God._ "So you're having one of _those_ days."

I didn't respond, just turned my face away from her and searched the bus for the only thing that could possibly make me feel better. But he wasn't there.

_He must have driven to school today._ There was no predictable pattern to Jared's driving habits. One day he would be on the bus in the morning, and then drive himself home in the afternoon, and the next it was the exact opposite. I wondered where his car went when he rode the bus home.

"Oh!" Heather shouted, and then patted my arm when I winced at her volume. "Sorry. I heard about the thing at Costco with Jared and your Dad. Pretty intense shit huh?"

"God, did _everyone _hear about that?" I asked no one in particular. "Did Brandon tell you too?"

I glared towards the front of the bus at the little traitor.

"Oh, no. Becky told me, and I _think_ she heard it from Tina, who must have heard it from John because they're-" _John._ Uncle John. The weird connection my brain had made last night.

What did it mean? Was I just so desperate for an answer that I jumped on the first possible pathway, or was there some logic to the odd presumption? Just thinking about it had my ears ringing again, so I stopped, and settled in for a very long bus ride.


	8. Chapter 8

**Howdy. Alrighty kids. Fasten your seatbelts 'cause I got alot to tell you here before you read this chapter.  
1. For some reason that I honestly can't figure out, this chapter took me a long time to write. So forgive me if it's not very good - I really needed to get it out of the way...which makes no sense because nothing major happens in it anyways. I guess I'm just dysfunctional.  
**

**2. I just realized that my timeline is a little wacky...so bare with me here. I'm going to disregard the fact that Jared was a werewolf in New Moon, because this whole time I've been writing like he turned in Eclipse. Just so you guys know (I've got this whole thing mapped out so...pay attention.) judging by the Eclipse time frame, when I had Jared imprint in The Force, that was about the time that Edward goes hunting the first time in Eclipse, and Bella visits Jacob. Where the story is now (aprox. a month later) it would be when Edward leaves to hunt again and Bella has to be babysat. Confusing, I know. I'm sorry.  
**

**3. This chapter is dedicated to Vintage Bluejeans, and our dovetailing interests. It's also dedicated to Sweet Fatima for being oh so sweet, and to bellamarieswancullen for being the _only _one to mention the whole thing with Kim's moms eyes being scratched out.**

**4. Again, I apologize for this not-so-great chapter. Things pick up in the next one, so please review on this because reviews are what keep me writing. I also apologize for this extremely large Author's Note. /**

**5. Read, review be merry. (Had to get it in _somewhere_.)**

**6. DISCLAIMER: Don't own them. Wish I owned Jared because I am very slowly falling in love with him. :)**

* * *

I was gearing up to murder whoever invented my migraine medicine. The _only_ damn reason I'd even bothered showing my face at school that day, was the fact that I retained some faith in the medicine I'd taken to get rid of the terrible headache. I needed to have a clear head when I took my English final or I would fail it.

That went down the drain the second Mrs. Reese handed me the test. My pencil wobbled ferociously as I tried writing my name on top of the paper. It took every ounce of energy that I had in my body just to make my hand form the letters.

At least I'd spelled it right.

Just the _title_ of the test was imposing: "Comprehensive Final Exam on Shakespearean History and General Knowledge." My head felt like it was going to explode.

I'd written my name and read the title and I was already down for the count. Then – because apparently she felt like she should torture me even more – Mrs. Reece did the unthinkable.

"Mr. Brooks, would you please take a seat at the front of the room? Yes, that's right; just in front of Kimberly." I couldn't hear his reply because the blood in my ears was pounding like the beating of a drum. How the bloody hell was I supposed to concentrate with Jared sitting right in front of me?

His shadow crossed my desk as he marched forward, and as he passed the scent of his cologne wafted back towards me. He smelled like Calvin Kline and a campfire – just like heaven in my opinion. The odd perfume helped to clear my head and that realization made me smile.

I should have known Jared would be the medicine that cured me. He always had been.

_Okay,_ I thought. _Number one._

_What was the name of Shakespeare's fourth brother to die of Scarlet Fever?_

_Lord Almighty._

xXx

Tyler Danvers had gallantly offered to drag me towards the lunch table after fourth period Geography together. I hadn't _really_ accepted the offer, but since my mumbled reply probably sounded more like gas than comprehendible thought, he'd grabbed my elbow, slung my book bag over his shoulder, and towed me forward like a prized show dog.

"How do you think you did on Reece's final?" He asked me conversationally. I was too busy putting one foot in front of the other to answer him and he took my silence as consent to rant. "I thought some of those questions were ridiculous. I mean, how are we supposed to know that his mother's favorite color was? I guessed green because of his use of the color in Macbeth-"

Tyler was a nice boy. He'd been a faithful boyfriend to my friend Katie since we had all been in the seventh grade, and he never once tried to run me over with his Ford Explorer; but he was one of the most insufferably annoying little toadstools I'd ever met.

He ranted on and on about the impossible English final – which I was sure I'd failed – and how he wanted his father to talk to the teacher about it, and blah, blah, blah. I kept hoping someone would open their locker too fast and it would smash into his head – it felt like that was the only way I'd ever get free of the cretin.

"That's ridiculous Jared," my mind instantly zeroed in on the familiar name, and as Tyler and I rounded the corner into the lunchroom, I saw the source of its utterance.

Paul. The big, loud, angry Neanderthal Jared called his friend. He and Jared stood huddled together against the wall. They both looked shaken and impossibly pale – like they'd seen a ghost or something.

"_Eleven _Jared? That's way too many for it to be-"

Tyler's voice cut in before I could hear what Paul was saying. "And then there was that one about his hair style…what was that about?"

We passed the muttering friends and my eyes locked with Jared's. He tore his strangely frightened eyes away from Paul and locked gazes with me. His already paling face suddenly turned green and he squeezed down hard on his friends arm. Paul jumped and started to yell, but Jared leaned forward and whispered something in his ear. Paul shot me a look, then turned back to Jared and nodded slightly.

"Got it," I heard him murmur before Tyler plopped me down into a plastic chair at our usual table.

The friendly babble of the people we sat with washed over me and my head started pounding.

"Geez, Kim!" Arthur Grey shouted from across the table. "What happened to your forehead?"

I winced at the volume of his voice and muttered, "I got in a fight with a ninja this morning."

Sarcasm was shockingly hard to do when your head was thumping louder than your thoughts.

Arthur's eyes widened and I almost laughed. Poor, gullible Artie.

"No she didn't." I heard Tyler's girlfriend behind me. "She hit her head on a garbage can." Katie leaned down to peck Tyler on the cheek, and then she turned and rested her chin on my shoulder. "How you feeling?" She whispered into my ear and I shrugged with the opposite side. I loved Katie – she was like QTS's resident den mother.

She eyed the plate of un-touched food – courtesy of her boyfriend – with a skeptical look in her eye. "You really should eat something Kim."

I actually had to fight the bile rising in my throat. "Do you _want_ me to puke all over you?"

Katie chuckled and stole the apple off of my tray. "Fine, then I'm taking this."

Being in a packed lunchroom with the smell of greasy cafeteria food wafting from every direction was not an ideal location for someone battling a migraine. I folded my arms on the table and buried my face in the crook of my elbow. The fabric of my sweatshirt helped sift out the disgusting smells and lessened the urge to barf, but it did nothing for my headache. All I wanted to do was go home, curl up on my couch, and sleep; but that wasn't an option. So I would stay, miserable, and wait for the day to end.

Well, at least I thought I would. But that was before _he_ got involved.

"Is she okay?" Jared asked in a stage whisper from behind me. My head stopped pounding abruptly.

"She's got a headache, I think." Katie diligently answered, and even though I couldn't see him, I knew Jared would be nodding his head.

I straightened up slowly – testing my limits – and was pleasantly surprised to find that my head wasn't spinning. I caught sight of Jared's reflection in the nearest window and literally felt my headache disappear.

"Why don't you go home, Kim?" He addressed me now, and I hoped my illness would excuse the awed silence that followed his question.

Why did Jared always decide to talk to me when I looked like I'd just been hit by a truck? Or buying tampons, or crashing a car…

He just had _exquisite_ timing didn't he?

"She doesn't have a car," Katie answered for me after a few minutes of expectant silence.

Jared's reflection winked at me and I turned around to face the real thing – which was _so _much better.

"Not anymore anyway," he laughed. I knew we were both thinking of the exploding Lexus; I wondered if his thoughts focused on the way he'd pulled me into his chest to protect me, like mine did.

"Could your dad or Lucas come get you?" Katie asked and I shook my head.

"My dad's at work and he's got the only car.

I felt Jared's gaze hot on my face and hat to swallow before I looked at him again.

"Go get your things," he ordered after a few moments. "I'm taking you home.

xXx

The office lady was a bitch. There was no other way to describe the gray haired old woman that sat behind the desk with her fat rolls spilling over the arms of her chair.

"I'm sorry Ms. Miller, but you're not eighteen. You can't sign yourself out." She squawked. I wanted to bean her in the head with something heavy.

"But-"

"I'm sorry, it's policy. Now if you could get a parent to call in-"

"My dad works all day – he _can't_ call in."

Jared had left me in the office so that I could sign out while he brought the Jeep around. I'd been arguing with the evil receptionist from hell for five minutes now – my migraine was creeping back into existence.

"Well then I'm sorry dear. You'll just have to stay here." I groaned and cradled my head in my hands. She wasn't _sorry._ She just liked to watch me suffer.

I wondered briefly how much trouble I would get in if I punched a school employee…

Luckily Jared's appearance saved me from doing something so drastic.

"Uh, Kim…did you drop this?" He held out a folded piece of notebook paper and I eyed it skeptically. The look he shot me was plainly urging me to play along – so I did.

"Sure."

He pushed the note into my palm and I almost fainted. He was touching me again! I realized that Jared and I had shared more physical contact in one day than we had in ten years of knowing each other.

"Why don't you give it to Mrs. Connors so we can leave then." He urged when I just stood there looking like an idiot.

My arms moved on their own and slid the paper towards the mean old hag. "Here," I muttered.

Both Jared and I held our breath as her beady little eyes scanned the page. She slammed it down onto the counter and narrowed her eyes at us.

"Have a nice day Ms. Miller," she snapped. I could tell what she really meant was: "Go die please."

I had no idea what it said, or who had written the note; but I was dam glad for it. I was now on my way home, where I would get to curl up on my couch and sleep through my migraine – and I was being driven home by Jared Brooks. Jared Anthony Brooks. Mr. Jared Anthony Brooks.

_My_ Jared Anthony Brooks.

I'd already been in on fight over him…so I claimed ownership.

xXx

"Hope you don't mind," his smooth voice murmured as we pulled into the McDonalds drive through. "I'm starving and I didn't get to eat."

"I don't." I hated the way his presence made my voice sound – all high and airy like Thumbelina or Barbie. It was gross, and I wished I could make it stop.

"Do you want something?" he asked.

To remedy the nasty voice problem, I simply shook my head. He got his answer; and I didn't want to kill myself.

"You're sick Kim; you really should eat."

_Woah! Did he swap bodies with Katie or something?_

I wasn't hungry, and I was sure that whatever food I got would come right back up to smile at me from the toilet bowl; but because it was Jared asking, and I probably would have clawed out my own eyes if he asked me to, I ordered something.

I ordered the first _something_ I found on the menu, in fact.

"I'll have the Chicken Caesar Salad." I mumbled, and was pleasantly surprised to hear that my Barbie voice had died – unfortunately I was still an idiot.

_Dumb, dumb, dumb._

I opened my mouth to change the order, but Jared had already pulled up to the ordering window, and _Chicken Caesar Salad_ was on the screen blinking shrewdly in at me.

_You stupid idiot._

My shoulders slumped and I leaned back into the seat.

_Honestly. How dumb can you get?_

Jared probably said something as he handed me the bag with my salad in it, but I was too busy beating myself up to listen.

_Way to go Einstein. What are you going to do now?_

Luckily I had an answer to that question ready.

"Uh," I murmured, and he stopped devouring his Big Mac long enough to glance over at me. "Do you want my chicken?"

He swallowed and raised an eyebrow. "Don't you want it?"

"I'm a vegetarian. I don't eat meat."


	9. Chapter 9

**Howdy. Okay, I love this chapter. Truly I do. :)  
It's just grandly fantabulous...I think anyways.**

**Okey dokey down to business. I forgot to tell you guys that I have a whole butt load of pictures on my profile for this story...you know...Jared, Kim, Lucas, Brandon...those kinds of pictures. :) Jared's scrumdidilyumptions. Yes indeedy. **

**Oh, yeah. I always try my best to reply to everyone that is gracious enough to review; but last chapter I think I missed some people, and for that I am deeply sorry. It's nothing personal, I'm just a spaz. Forgive me. ;)**

**Heh. I've got some pretty ehem _nice_** **visuals coming up here...are you ready?**

**Read, review, be merry. :)**

* * *

I'd never really wondered what a cheeseburger firework would look like, but I found out as soon as I told Jared I wasn't in to devouring corpses.

Chewed up bits of cow flew all over the windshield and dashboard – thankfully it all stayed to his side – as Jared spluttered in surprise.

"Wait! You don't eat _cheeseburgers_?" He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and stared at me with wide eyes.

I bit my lip to keep from laughing at him, but as his disgusted face slowly turned into a smiling one – I couldn't help it. The Jeep erupted with the sound of my laughter, followed shortly by his own. It had been a while since I had handed myself over to hysteria, and it felt good. The fact that I was alone in a car with the only man I'd ever loved didn't hurt either.

We must have laughed for five minutes at least. Every time it sounded like we might be calming down one of us would catch sight of the macabre windshield and burst into peels of laughter again.

I almost forgot that the only reason I was even with Jared was because I was supposed to have some kind of monster headache; but that honestly hadn't bothered me since we'd pulled away from the school parking lot.

"I'm sorry," Jared huffed once we had calmed down enough to breathe. "If I'd have known you were vegetarian I would have taken you to…Veggie World or something."

I pulled my eyes away from the disgusting dashboard to smirk at him and his 'Veggie World' comment, but the second I got a good look at his face – another fit of laughter wracked my body. He had a hunk of hamburger stuck to his lip and it made him look like he had a large, cancerous mole. That or he was a Marilyn Monroe impersonator.

"What now?" Jared laughed. It took a few minutes for my laughter to die down and when it finally did I pointed to his lip…and started laughing again.

"Great," he murmured, wiping his mouth on his arm. "Did someone have a few too many pain meds this morning, Kim?"

He turned the key in the ignition and the roaring of the engine broke into my laughter like an angry animal. I wondered how he was supposed to drive with processed-cow all over his windshield – he thought he had an answer.

A scraping noise made me jump and I realized that he had turned the windshield wipers on.

_Oh. That ought to work well since the mess is inside the car._

Jared noticed his mistake at the same time that I did. He cleared his throat and turned them off. "I uh – meant to do that."

I glanced over at him and he crossed his eyes at me – we both erupted into laughter again.

It was an odd feeling – being with Jared – after so many years dreaming about him and pining after his attention. I couldn't believe I was actually here, acting like an idiot…and not caring. The word _surreal_ came to mind and it was the perfect way to describe the situation. It was all very surreal. Jared had a very comforting way of talking and acting, that made me feel less self conscious and more free to be Kim.

Just Kim; not brainless Barbie, or Star Wars fanatic…Kim. The vegetarian who loved her brothers, ate too many almonds for her own good and couldn't form a rational thought without the name Jared in it.

xXx

The first thing I noticed when the red Jeep pulled into my driveway was the easy way Jared drove right up to the house – like he'd been doing it all his life. Like there wasn't an old balding man inside that wanted to rip his face off. It made me happy. I liked the idea of Jared being comfortable at my house.

The second thing I noticed was the crappy old Lincoln Navigator parked in the garage.

_What's dad doing home?_

My mind zipped through the information at hand. I wasn't in _school_ on a _school_ day, and I was in a boy's car. Worse, I was in _Jared's_ car. Hopefully my father was in the shower or the kitchen or had his head stuffed between some sofa cushions or something because if he saw me with Jared he would fall over dead.

"Right, well…" Jared struggled for words and I caught him eyeing the untouched salad on the dashboard.

He wanted the chicken.

_Does he have a hollow leg or something?_ In the ten odd minutes it took to drive to my house from McDonalds, Jared had downed the rest of his Big Mac, - most of which was still smeared on the windshield - a large milkshake, two large fries and three fist sized hash browns.

_Maybe he's got _two_ wooden legs. _

"Go ahead," I conceded and his lips turned up in a smile. He leaned over to tug on the bag and the salad clunked down into it with an odd swishing noise.

I was frozen. No heartbeat, no breath – absolutely still. Jared was so close I could see each and every one of his eyelashes; count the freckles on his cheek.

If he turned his head…

Jared turned his head.

I could feel his breath in my mouth. His lips were millimeters away from my own and every nerve ending in my body was a live wire.

_Do it Kim! No, wait…let him do it! Maybe he's too scared…_

He wasn't. I was.

Jared leaned in like he was going to kiss me and for some reason – I don't know why I did it – I leaned away.

I would have clocked myself if Jared's head hadn't been in the way.

_He was right there! What is wrong with you?_

My eyes slammed shut to shield my ego from the look in his deep brown eyes, and even though I couldn't see it, I felt him lean away and settle back into his own seat.

He cleared his throat. "Hope you feel better Kim." He murmured and my hand grappled blindly for the door handle. "See you in English tomorrow."

I think I nodded - I might have. My mind was wrapped in on itself and it made focusing on anything else very…challenging.

_Salvation!_ I yanked the door open and spilled out clumsily onto my gravel driveway. I opened my eyes – finally – and just caught Jared waving before he pulled out and drove away in a hurry.

A giant raindrop plopped right on top of my head and I groaned loudly. My migraine was coming back. The nausea was coming back. Jared had almost kissed me – and I'd leaned away, so naturally the need to slam my head in a door also returned. On top of it all it was raining, I had no jacket…

_Oh holy sea monkey's._

And I'd left my book bag in Jared's car.

xXx

Something was very wrong.

I'd stepped into my house praying that my father not be hiding behind something with a chainsaw, ready to hack my head off; but now that I was inside I saw there was no need for the hope.

Because my father was nowhere in sight. The kitchen was a mess and smelled like smoked salmon and tuna fish. Dirty dishes were stacked in the sink like unstable columns of filth, someone had left the faucet on, and there were muddy footprints on the floor leading to the garage.

Something was very,_ very_ wrong.

I swallowed loudly and tried to knead the worsening headache out of my brain.

"Dad?" I called – the sound cutting through my skull like butter. "Lucas?"

The silence that followed was terrifying. _One_ of them was always here, and now today I couldn't find either?

Something clanked in the garage and I almost jumped out of my skin.

_It's okay Kim,_ I comforted myself and started the trek forward through the laundry room and towards the door to the garage._ It's only Dad. Nothing to worry about. _

_Nothing at all…_

My hand closed around the gold door knob and pushed.

My heart pounded its way up to my throat where it beat out an awkward rhythm.

It wasn't my father in the garage causing all the ruckus.

"Kimbo!"

"Uncle John?"


	10. Chapter 10

**Howdy. :) I'm happy. This chapter is a big one. The big one-oh. Double digits. Ahhh...tis a grand thing. :) Oh! And last chapter we hit 100 reviews! Oh yeah baby, you better believe I'm happy. Giddy even. :) **

**Okey-dokey. So last chapter I got a reviews saying how much they wanted to know why Uncle John's here...and I'm sorry to say that doesn't exactly happen in this one. I needed to set up the foundation for him - let you get to know Uncle John before I stick him in a situation where you might end up not liking him. And I have to say, that would make me really sad because I'm in love with the spaz. :) I HIGHLY suggest that you go check out the pictures of him I have on my profile BEFORE you read this, because then you'll have a visual...and the first sentance might not seem so odd. :)**

**This chapter is basically just family stuff, Uncle John, bye-bye migraine, and some funny stuff with el padre. Hope you like it, read review and be merry as always...and make me smile again!**

* * *

My father's brother was a handsome man with chiseled features indicative of Native American ancestry: high cheekbones, wide brown eyes, dark skin, dark hair, and a strong jaw-line. Uncle John had long black hair that was always either perfectly straight or braided into two pigtails that reached just past his shoulders. He could usually be found wearing a cowboy hat or a bandana.

Today, he had pigtails and a worn out blue bandana that matched the one sticking out the back pocket of his jeans. His face was covered in engine grease and he had it smeared all over his once cleanly-pressed white button down shirt.

"How've you been Bug?" He asked, lurching forward to wrap me in his big strong arms.

A million childhood memories floated through my mind: swimming in Lake Chelan at Christmas, fishing in the Columbia River; the summer that Lucas, me and Uncle John had decided to we were going to build a tree house…and then got bored and built a fort in the living room instead.

Uncle John was a very comforting person who always had a hug to give, a shoulder to cry on, and something wise or funny to say.

But I wasn't comfortable. Because I knew that Uncle John wasn't here just to visit and reminisce about ancient adventures; he was here because my dad needed to talk to him about something important. About Jared.

Jared, who had just driven me home. Jared, who had just tried to kiss me.

Behind my uncle's back I dug my nails into the palm of my hand for not letting him.

"What're you doing home Kimmy? Your dad said you got out of school at two thirty."

I glanced over at the shop-clock on the wall. Eleven fifteen.

"I uh- didn't…don't feel good." I muttered into his chest. Uncle John let go of me so that he could put his leathery hand on my forehead.

One of his eyebrows rose and he clucked his tongue.

"I've got bad news Kimberly Norene. You're fatally ill and you only have two minutes to live." His face took on a comically distraught expression. "Quick!" He shouted, making me jump. "What do you want to do with your last two minutes of life?" He pointed an imaginary microphone at my face and I just rolled my eyes.

Uncle John was the biggest kid in the world.

After a few seconds of silence he started tapping his foot impatiently and checked his watch repeatedly.

"Oh, would you look at that? Your times up. You have to die now. Buh-bye!" His hand shot up to push hard on my shoulder. I lost my balance and plummeted towards the floor; but – just like he always had – my uncle saved my butt before I got hurt.

"Saved your life! What's my prize?"

"How about you put me back on my feet…and I don't barf on you."

He narrowed his eyes. "Deal."

When I was righted, and comfortably sitting on the stack of tires in the corner of our garage – I remembered something.

"Uncle John?" I asked. "Where's my dad?"

My uncle had rolled himself underneath his beat up old Mercury sedan using Brandon's skateboard, and his reply came out echoing like he was on the other side of a wide chasm.

"He's out running – preparing for that big marathon he's got coming up…or something."

I started laughing so hard I almost fell from my perch.

"My dad doesn't run in marathons! I can barely get him to walk out and get the mail!"

Uncle John slid out from under his car, and we locked eyes. He started laughing and the sound was warm – comforting. Like a cup of hot chocolate on a cold day.

"Your old man'll do anything to try and one-up me won't he?"

It was true. Over the years, the brother's relationship had consisted of numerous random competitions.

Who could gain a higher tribal standing in La Push? Who could make more money selling junk on e-bay? (My father had gone so crazy during that stage that for a while we had _nothing_ in our house except a few folding chairs, sleeping bags, and our clothing.) Who had the nicer car? (Dad had been winning _that_ one…before I crashed his trophy into a lamp post.)

Brandon and I were both under the firm suspicion that these ridiculous competitions were the reason the brothers hadn't spoken in four years.

Uncle John had been going to college for well over eight years to get his judicial degree - so my father was ahead in the career department for a while – at least until Uncle John graduated and got a job at a law firm in Oregon.

Lawyer beat mail man – Dad was pissed. The competitions kept going though, and I highly doubted they would ever stop.

"Don't be facetious – you would do anything to beat him."

"True," he allowed. "But at least I don't deny it."

xXx

"Kimbo?" Uncle John poked his head in my bedroom door and then blinked against the bright colors.

I rolled over so that I could face him from where I lay in bed.

After we had spent a few more minutes innocently bashing my father, I'd excused myself upstairs to rest and try to fight off my migraine. Thankfully, a few hours of sleep without my brother sin my room had done the trick, and not even my psychedelic walls could make me dizzy now – well…any more than was normal anyways.

"Yeah?" I grumbled.

"Could you go pick up Brandon at the bus stop? I would go, but I'm going to clean up the kitchen before your dad comes home and skins me alive."

My eyebrows pulled together. "Brandon's twelve Uncle John; he can walk home by himself now."

"Oh, that's right." For some reason this news seemed to sadden him. Uncle John had no children of his own – he and my aunt had decided they weren't the fruit bearing type – so Lucas, Brandon and I had sort of been adopted as their children too. Four years away must not have been easy for him – all alone in Oregon with only Aunt Becky to talk to.

Poor guy.

"Well then," Uncle John smiled, temporary misery forgotten. "Do you want to sleep a while longer or are you feeling better?"

I nodded. "Much."

This news brightened his mood considerably. He cleared his throat. "That's wonderful. Do you think – if you're up to it of course – that you could help me with dinner? Just watch or something – give me a few pointers…"'

I could see where this was going.

"Do you want me to cook Uncle John?"

"Yes! That would be wonderful! Thank you, you glorious child!" I rolled my eyes at his praise and threw off my quilt. "God smiles on your existence. May Taha-Aki bless your children!" His ludicrous blessings followed me into the bathroom where I splashed some water onto my face, then down the stairs and into the garage to grab a can of tomatoes for spaghetti sauce.

"Barney will bow to your magnificence. The munchkins of Oz will sing you to sleep…"

"Okay, I get it!" I laughed and shoved past the spaz to grab a wooden spoon out of the drawer. "I'm cooking aren't I?" I dumped the tomatoes into a pot, put the pot on the stove, and turned up the heat. "See? Coo-king."

He shook his braided head and stood behind me at the sink to clean his mountain of dirty dishes.

Before too long, when we had fallen into a comfortable silence, he started to sing. I recognized the song as one from my childhood – a Quileute lullaby my father still sang to Brandon when he was scared at night.

It told the story of the Mighty Raven Bayak, and how he placed the sun in the sky to save the Quileute people from an eternal winter.

Half way through the song I joined in – I knew the words well from years of learning our language in school.

Our voices melded together in a way that made me forget who I was. For a moment I could imagine myself buried deep in a mud-hut covered with deer skin pelts and watching the sun rise over A-Ka-Lat Island.

"Ki-Kie a-lita, Ki-Kie a-lita Bayak!

O-lit shi-pa wi-ta- cho-cho,

Di-a-di hibbib shi-pa Bayak…"

I heard a key jingling outside and motioned for Uncle John to stop singing.

"Brand?" I yelled. We heard a back pack tumble to the ground and my little brother poked his shaggy head around the corner.

"Who's here Kim? I heard voices-" his words got stuck in his throat as he caught sight of the man behind me. "Uncle John!"

"Hey Little Buddy; how ya been?" The two of them met in the doorway for a hug and Uncle John balked when he realized how close Brandon's head was to his own.

"Woah!" He shouted and leveled a hand with my brother's forehead. He brought it to his body and gaped down – Brandon was almost to his shoulders now. "When'd you get so tall Pipsqueak?"

"Just a few months ago." I offered. Brandon had shot up a foot since he entered middle school – he was now almost as tall as me.

"Quite a growth spurt there little man." Uncle John marveled.

Brandon was positively beaming. Not only was he proud of his newfound loftiness, he adored our uncle and getting praise from him was like being handed the key to the city for Brandon.

_This_ was my family; but two substantial members were missing. I figured my father had probably walked down to the McDonalds or was holed up in Deputy Mike's house down the street, avoiding the conversation with his children about his apparent 'marathon' training. I had no idea where my other brother was. Lucas was usually still sleeping at four o' clock in the afternoon, but I had checked his room and he wasn't in it. Uncle John hadn't seen him since arriving, and Brandon had been at school all day so he had no idea either.

_Probably out getting drunk again._ I thought grimly. Even though he was only eighteen years old, Luke had the terrible habit of drowning himself in a bottle of vodka on a regular basis.

"Have either of you heard from Luke today?" I asked, even though I knew what their answers would be. They both shook their heads.

"Nah, I haven't seen Lucas," Brandon started. "But do you guys know why Dad's sleeping in the Navigator outside?"

Uncle John and I shared a look.

"The mighty marathoner returns?" He asked with a smile on his face.

"The mighty marathoner never left." I laughed – and then froze. My father was asleep in the car. The car that was in the driveway. The car that had been right next to Jared's Jeep when he'd dropped me off today. When he almost kissed me.

I couldn't believe our luck that he hadn't seen us.

"I should go get him." I tapped the spoon on the side of the shiny silver pan, set it down on the plate I had sitting by the stove, and marched myself to the front door. My feet slid comfortably into my father's over-sized and over-used house slippers, and I wiggled my toes inside them.

_Comfy cozy._

It was raining outside so I ran to the car and tugged open the door. Sure enough, there was my father, snoring loudly and stretched out in the back seat. He had on a pair of worn out running shoes I recognized as Lucas's, some blue shorts that were so short they should have been outlawed, and Brandon's Gold's Gym T-shirt. The old man had outdone himself with the lying this time – it actually looked plausible. If not for the layer of flab hanging over the shorts, and the line of drool dripping from his saggy mouth, I almost could have believed that he ran marathons…almost.

"Daddy," I said quietly and shook his leg to try and wake him.

_Houston we have a problem._

"Dad," I coaxed, a little louder this time. Still no response.

"Henry!"

He sat up with a snort and blinked against the setting sun that was shining right into his eyes.

"Kim?"

"Yeah Daddy it's me. Let's go inside okay? It's raining."

I had never seen my father blush before. After a few moments – just long enough for his left over grogginess to wear off – he had realized that he'd been caught in the act of lying. Worse…he'd been caught by his teenage daughter.

"Guess the jig is up huh?"

"Yeah," I laughed and put a balancing hand on his back as he climbed out of the SUV. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and we headed inside. "The jig was never really down Dad."


	11. Chapter 11

**Howdy :)**

**So, I like this chapter. I don't _love_ it, but I like it. The beginning is great. It makes me laugh, and smile. And I hope you do too. :)**

**The end might be a little hard to understand, but...eh...if it is let me know. I'm planning on updating tomorrow but if I don't, don't get mad. Okay. Read, review, be merry. (Especially the reviewing and the being merry.) **

**I'd like to thank Vintage Bluejeans for her help and advice...thanks to her you guys might even get another chapter _tonight._ We'll see though. Anyways...**

**DISCLAIMER: Don't own them. Never have. Never will. They're Stephenie Meyer's, I'm just borrowing them.**

* * *

Tuesdays in the life of Kimberly Miller were rarely extraordinary. Even if they were anything special, it was nothing to be celebrated and was soon forgotten.

So when I woke up on that dark dank Tuseday, I wasn't expecting anything. The morning played out as most mornings did in the Miller household: Brandon griped about the early hour and our cabinet's lack of Lucky Charms; Lucas finally showed up – hung over and dazed – and trudged lazily up into his room; Dad milled about in his usual psychotic morning-loving daze; and I took a shower – which was cut short by my father and his insatiable need to do laundry before he went to work.

In fact the only even semi-odd thing about that morning was the snoring lump of uncle sprawled out on our futon.

Sir-snores-a-lot didn't interfere too much with the routine though, so we hardly noticed him.

Brandon and I sloshed through the murky puddles on the way to the bus stop without any form of conversation; again, a very _normal_ occurrence. We stood in line with the five other poor sods forced to board the Quileute bus, separating ourselves into two groups – high school and middle school – just as the stinky yellow travesty pulled up.

The middle school children filed on in front of us and we scuttled after them obediently. Cara Sanders was in front of me in line. Normally, I didn't pay any attention to the person I walked behind; but Cara smelled like pee and it made my nostrils burn. My eyes were focused on her as she took a seat next to her urine-smelling friend Greg Laurell – so I didn't notice the odd seating arrangements farther back until I had no choice but to pay attention.

Three familiar faces caught my attention and my stomach dropped to my toes. Jared, Heather and Carol Fisher – back from her "violence provoked" suspension – all had their eyes locked on my face.

Something was off. They were in the wrong places. Carol and Jared usually sat together, while Heather and I were together. Today Carol and Heather were together…and Jared was sitting by himself.

Alone. Without Carol.

His was also the only available seat unless in wanted to squish in next to Cara and the piss-pie gang. The smile Heather shot me told me she'd planned it to be this way.

_Let's see: sit by my one and only love, or smell like a port-a-potty all day?_

I gulped and plopped myself down next to Jared. I was careful not to bump him or look at him when I pulled off my book bag and settled it on my lap. Half of my butt was hanging off of the seat in my attempt to not jostle him.

_Holy snot he smells good!_

"Felling better?" His voice was like a siren; as soon as I heard it I had to look. My eyes sang to me as they drank in his familiar features and an involuntary smile crept onto my face.

_Oh, Jared._

His lips curled into the grin I'd seen so many times, but never been on the serving end of.

I had to look away or I would have done something really, _really_ stupid.

_Easy girl, breathe. That's the ticket. Don't look…don't do it…ah!_

Despite my strong mental persuasion not to…I couldn't take my eyes off of him for too long.

"Kim, are you feeling better?" He repeated. This time I found my voice and answered him with an over-zealous affirmative.

His arm snaked out towards me and my heart stopped. Literally froze mid-beat in the center of my chest. Jared's hand slid between my back and the seat, sending tingles wherever it touched. It curled around my rib cage on the other side, and he pulled the other half of my butt up onto the seat so that I was closer to him.

"I don't bite, promise."

I tried to laugh without sounding hysterical – I really wish I hadn't. The restraint caused my nasal passage to constrict in on itself, and the un-holy result was my very loud, very embarrassing snort.

_Oh holy shit._

My attempt to not laugh turned into a battle with tears as Jared erupted into laughter. I turned my face to the side and bit down hard on my lip.

Ah, fate. It hated me. Every time I was alone with Jared – the one person on earth I really wanted to show that I wasn't some kind of idiotic loser – I did something like snorting, or pulling away from him when he tried to kiss me, and the whole attempt at normalcy was blown.

_Well_, I thought. _It's over. He's never going to be nice to you again, and all the progress you've made will mean nothing because he's not going to even remember you exist…_ My teeth sawed into my lower lip until it was bleeding, but I didn't pay any attention; I was trying to ignore my own thoughts. They were making me feel horrible – like the idiot I really was.

I felt a rush of warmth on the side of my face and when I turned to see what had caused it my heart leapt into my throat. (The poor organ was having a really bad day.)

Jared's face was so close…_so close._

"You're going to bite that thing off if you're not careful." He murmured and pulled down on my chin with his big warm hand so that my lip slipped out of my teeth. His fingers lingered on my skin and I almost started hyperventilating.

Jared's face seemed to be getting closer and closer – almost like he was leaning forward – and I wanted to believe that he was trying to kiss me again. But why would he be? I was Kim. And he was Jared. Jared, the heaven-sent angel with the melting pot eyes and skin as warm as a flame. Jared.

When I finally recognized that he was in fact leaning forward, I swallowed hard. This time I would _not_ lean away. I was determined. My hands curled around the strap to my book bag like an anchor.

_Do. Not. Move._

What happened next was proof that someone up there really had it out for me.

Our bus hit a bump in the road, and as fate would have it, instead of a hot and steamy lip lock, Jared's forehead smashed into mine. The collision cracked loudly.

I saw stars and swirls and bright colors – I thought I was going to pass out.

There was a strange sound to my left, and a warm feeling on my side. My head cleared a little bit and I realized that the warmth was from Jared's hand, and the weird sound, was his raucous laughter.

"Someone really hates me," he hiccupped, and my brow furrowed. That hurt though, so I un-wrinkled it and settled for jutting out my bitten lip. I thought it was odd, that Jared was speaking what I had been thinking only moments before. Very odd.

It then occurred to me that _maybe_ our foreheads had smacked together so hard our bodies had been switched or something; but I checked the face to the left and it was his, so I was still Kim.

_Darn. It could have been fun to be inside his body_.

"Are you okay Kim? I know my forehead's like a rock." I smirked at him and nodded; but I guess my word wasn't good enough. He grasped my head between his two big warm hands and pressed a thumb lightly on the collision point.

I winced.

"Sorry about that." He grumbled and released me.

"It's okay."

_Gah!_ Barbie voice was back.

"So…" Jared shook his shaggy bangs into his eyes and jutted his chin towards the window. Outside it was gray – dark gray. "Nice day huh?"

_Thunderstorm's coming._ I realized.

Waves crashed against the beach in angry strikes, each time getting closer and closer to the berm that separated school grounds from the ocean. Up above, the great green tops on the Evergreen Trees swayed with the wild wind. Branches cracked and popped, only to crash through the undergrowth and land on the ground with a resounding _boom!_ The only word I could think of to describe it was _nightmarish_. In a movie, this would be when the pretty little girl gets chased by the evil monster, only to be saved by her handsome hero.

I stole a glance at Jared before the bus pulled to a stop and we all got off. The strange gray light glinted off of his dark brown eyes in a way that made them look midnight black. A flash of lightning illuminated the sky and cast his features into a distorted mask.

For a moment, I wondered if he would be the monster, or the hero.

Then the lightning passed and normal lighting returned. He was the same handsome Jared I had been infatuated with for so long, and the answer came to me in a blast of intuition.

He was the hero. Even if he was the monster…he would always be the hero to me.

xXx

"Kimberly Miller?"

Mrs. Reece was on a grading rampage again in English, and for the last forty minutes she had been belting out the test scores of every senior to pass through her third period class. Tyler Danvers – who had spent half of the previous day complaining about the test – had pulled an A, so I hoped that maybe I hadn't done too terribly…

"Yes ma'am?"

"I thought you said you studied." The old hag squawked and twirled around the scantron paper to show the entire class my grade.

A big fat F stared right back at me and my mouth fell open. I heard a few people snicker in the back of the room and I turned to glare at them; but my gaze caught on Jared's face.

He mouthed "I'm sorry," then held up his own test paper to show that he hadn't done any better.

I had to step outside of myself for a moment so I could assess the situation without going all loopy at the sight of him.

This strange new…acquaintance-ship with Jared was overwhelming. Why now? Ten years after I fell in _love_ with him, he notices I'm alive. He was talking to me and making me laugh…trying to kiss me? It made no sense. Now, I wasn't complaining – because all I'd wished for since I was seven was for this to happen – but I was just…confused.

I'd tried telling Heather about it, but all she did was croon over how _cute_ he was and how amazing it was that he was finally talking to me. She said that "boys were _always_ confusing" and they "always play hard to get." Heather'd had more boyfriends than I could count on my fingers _and_ toes so I trusted her judgment on men – but for some reason I didn't feel like the same principles applied to the subject of my affections.

No, something had changed. Had he finally smelled the strawberry shampoo in my hair? Did he like the lip-gloss I was wearing now? There were so many things that I had changed about myself over the years to better…acquaint myself with Jared. It just seemed odd that _now_ he noticed them.

But maybe that was all this was, and I was just over-reacting. He just simply hadn't noticed me before. A very plausible notion, since I was invisible to most of QTS anyways.

With that idea in mind, I twisted in my seat to face him again. His mouth turned up in a wide smile and his eyes twinkled. This time – I felt my heart react calmly. I guess I was getting used to his smiles. My own face mirrored his for a moment, and my mind was at ease. For a moment I could look directly into his eyes and pretend that he really was beginning to care for me – that he really did want to kiss me and not just because I was a girl. Because I was Kim.

But only for a moment.

Then I stepped back into my own body and the intensity of his gaze was too much. I whipped back around to face the front of the room where Mrs. Reece had just subjected poor Hannah Waters to her evil glare.

I was Kim.

And Jared Anthony Brooks would never be mine.

Not even if he wanted to kiss me.

Not even if – on some warped level – he kind of cared about my well being.

Not even if I could stop being such an insecure idiot…

Not even if my feet fell off and I went blind and a meteor struck earth.

Jared was Jared.

And I was Kim.

* * *

**And she was Kim. :( Please review. Tell you what. If I get...seven, before I go to bed. You'll get an update. Promise. :)**


	12. Chapter 12

**Howdy. Well, here I am with your promised chapter. I asked for something, and you guys delivered - so I'm completing my end of the deal: a new chapter. A new very VERY VERY LONG chapter. I feel proud - I wrote it un an hour...and it's actually _good_! **

**This chapter tis a grand one. Yes indeedy. :) I'm in an amazing mood. My boyfriend has finally proven to me that werewolves are NOT the greatest men on the earth - because he is - _and_** **we've got a thunderstorm up here in Washington...and it's an amazing one. Carter (My boyfriend) took me out in it and danced with me. :)**

**Anyways, I hope y'all really like this one because I do. Now get this. You HAVE to review if you read it. I mean...I can't make you technically, but it would be the nice thing to do. Two chapters in one day? That's a good present I think, and if you don't review I won't be happy. And a sad author means no updates for you and that wouldn't be good would it? There are seventy one of you on the alert list, and I better hear from at least some of you! :)**

****

Oh, and another thing. Because I love you darling reviewers so darn much, I've decided to give you a little present. _But_ you can't know what the present is unless you go look at my page. It says what it us under the 'projects' label...then go to _The Force_ and the bold print will tell you what you're getting! Yup-yup.

* * *

After English my heart felt like led. I made it a goal to stop bashing on myself about Jared – to just shut off my brain and let my fantasies take hold of me. That way even if Jared's attention eventually faded – and I knew it would – at least I would have the memories.

That was the plan anyways. It sailed smoothly all the way through fourth period, where I successfully paid attention in World History despite Carol and her bimbo twins whispering behind my back. I was able to focus on Hitler's use of concentration camps and keep my mind off of Jared the _entire time._ Fifty minutes without his face in my head was the longest I'd ever gone without daydreaming about him since second grade.

I was proud of myself when the bell rang and my thoughts flitted momentarily to the attempted kiss this morning, and I didn't twist it around so that I made myself feel like a useless piece of crap. I saw it as the miracle that it was – _my _Jared finally paying attention to me – and smiled.

Ladies and Gentlemen: Kimberly Norene Miller has made it through the period.

But then I got to lunch. I had a new spring in my step due to the disappearance of all my self doubt, and when I rounded the corner to the lunchroom people stared. I wasn't known for bouncing when I walked. I nodded at the people I knew, and tried not to laugh at the people I didn't – their faces were something strange to look at.

My feet wound through the familiar pathways until my usual table was in sight. I almost called out to Katie who sat at the very end with an odd expression on her beautiful features; but then I stopped mid-step. My foot stayed in the air like I was posing for a picture and I wobbled clumsily.

_Why is he here?_

My usual lunch comrades had grouped together into a tight packed bundle and were all staring wide eyed at the mountainous man sitting in their usual spots. Their faces ranged from awed to disgusted. They were all shocked.

It didn't surprise me much – I'd already seen Jared eat before. I knew he could down half of the McDonalds menu in less than ten minutes. A tiny tray of school food would be no problem for him.

Reluctantly I forced myself to move forward; my movements were jerky and over-calculated. I probably looked like I was seizing rather than walking…whatever my visual status was, I got there much faster than I would have hoped. I was very careful to stay at the populated end of the table, where my surprised looking friends stood.

Jared stuffed a potato wedge into his already full mouth and swallowed the gigantic load when he saw me.

"Kim!" He said excitedly when his mouth was free to talk without showering the lunch table with food. His eyes twinkled and I had to force myself not to squeal at the way he said my name – like it was something to be revered.

"Hey." My voice wasn't Barbie or Thumbelina this time…nope. This was all mine– my snorting-vegetarian-tampon-buying-car-crashing-leaning-forehead-bashing voice.

_I almost miss Barbie._

Jared slid out the chair across from him with his foot and raised his eyebrows.

"Care to join me?"

_Go for it. Might as well humor him._

Because he was Jared.

The plastic was hard and the seat was cold, there was something foul on the table in front of me; but I couldn't help the feeling of euphoria that crept into my stomach. Sure, I was Kim and Jared wouldn't love me…but he was here, eating with me and smiling about it, so I had to enjoy it.

I placed my lunch bag on the table gently and let its contents spill out on their own accord. An apple, a peanut butter sandwich, and a juice box I'd stolen from Brandon this morning. My eyes scanned his tray for what he'd bought – or what was left of it anyways – and my eyes lingered on the banana resting by his hand.

He noticed my gaze and held it out, offering it to me.

"Do you want it?"

I shook my head. "No, I don't eat bananas."

One of his perfect eyebrows shot up. "Erm – you know they're not meat…right?"

I managed to laugh _without_ snorting.

"Yes, I know they're not meat."

"Well, then why don't you eat them?"

Before I launched into my story, Katie muttered "here we go" and everyone chuckled.

I ignored it and began to educate. "They make little children climb one-hundred foot trees for those. Most of them break their arms and legs from falling – some of them die from it. If they don't get their quota for the day, their masters chop of their little arms. Eating bananas would support that abuse and I think that's just disgusting."

By the time I was done Jared was staring at me with his mouth hanging open. His hand went slack and the banana clattered to the table.

"Wow." He muttered, then picked up the yellow menace, and lobbed it into the nearest trash can.

I nodded approvingly. It had taken me six years to convince Katie and the rest of the lunch group to boycott the fruit. It had taken me less than two minutes to convince Jared.

Could do _anything_ wrong?

"I had no idea." His voice was full of wonder at my lesson, and I felt better about myself again.

_Educating the world one banana-eater at a time._

After my Peace Corps worthy speech, the rest of my lunch group finally settled in – either accepting Jared's presence or succumbing to hunger I wasn't sure – and the normal babble of conversation soon washed over the table.

I un-wrapped my peanut butter sandwich, tugged one half out of the plastic, and bit into the sugary treat. I chewed slowly – absorbed in Katie and Tyler's argument over who loved whom more…

My heart thundered in my chest as I recognized the blistering heat of Jared's hand on my arm – my eyes fluttered shut.

I had been so focused in on the argument I hadn't been watching him; Jared moved so gracefully that there was no way to notice what he was doing until he did it.

And then it was too late for my poor heart.

"Kim," he said quietly so that no one but me could hear it.

My eyes wouldn't open and I couldn't find my voice, so I just nodded in acknowledgment.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Of course now was the time when _everyone_ at the table had to go absolutely silent. I finally pried my disobedient eyes open and glared at them for making the situation awkward.

Arthur winked at me and Katie shot me a discreet thumbs up.

_Oh tarter-sauce. _

"S-Sure." My voice shook as I answered.

Jared yanked me out of my seat so fast my stomach got left behind. Before I could blink I was tripping after him, trying to get my bearings and failing miserably. Where was he taking me?

My answer came a few minutes later when he jolted to a stop in the deserted locker bay. He dropped my wrist and started pacing back and forth along the width of the hall.

His hand shook as he raised it to shove his hair back away from his face.

_Wait…is he…nervous?_

I automatically answered that one with a no. Jared, nervous? Not possible.

_He certainly looks it though…_

"Uh…Ja-" An insanely loud group of sophomores cut off my sentence.

Jared's shout of frustration caught me off guard, but I didn't have much time to react because we were off again in a matter of seconds. He dragged me along behind him, looping through hallways and doubling back on himself in search of…what?

_What is he looking for?_

He slammed on the brakes – this time in the doorway to the library. Mrs. Leech glared at us over her spectacles but said nothing to make us leave.

_All bark and no bite…_

"Kim, I…we.-" Jared stammered out a few more un-intelligible words and started pacing again.

He _definitely_ seemed nervous.

"What?" I asked, hoping he would clarify. He paused long enough to look at me with wide, confused eyes, then he jammed his thumbnail into his mouth and continued pacing again. A few times he stopped and looked like he was going to talk, but then his forehead would crinkle and he would go right on pacing. It seemed to me that he was searching for the right words…like he couldn't dictate what he wanted to say and he felt that he needed the _perfect_ words for it.

I knew the feeling. How many times had I paced alone in my bedroom, rehearsing what I would say to him when I finally talked to him? How many times had I planned out the when and the where and the why – the logistics of speaking to the magnificent Jared Brooks? Too many times to count.

But why was "the magnificent Jared Brooks" at a loss for words around _me_? Shy, timid little Kim Miller.

"Kim, you're…and I'm…" He struggled again.

"Okay…" I motioned for him to go on. His chest inflated with a large intake of air – preparing for his speech I hoped.

"You kids need to either go back to lunch, or find somewhere else to flirt." Mrs. Leech whined in her nasally voice.

_Damn._

I almost blushed; but I didn't have time to because we were off again, tearing through the halls in search of Jared's mystery spot. It occurred to me that he was looking for somewhere quiet to talk – and for once I felt like I had the upper hand. I knew a place…

I looked around and realized we were in front of the Gym.

_Good, we're going the right way._ Jared led me down the hallway to the left, and out into the foyer; but I stopped him there.

"This way," I muttered and used his grip on my wrist to lead him through the heavy concrete doors and out into a deserted courtyard. Nobody ever came there – ever. Half the population of QTS was convinced it was haunted, and the other forty-nine percent didn't know it existed.

I was part of the one percent that did.

The quiet stone courtyard seemed to calm Jared down a bit. He let go of my wrist and leaned against the wall with a sigh. His back made an odd smacking sound on the concrete as he slid down until his knees were pressed into his chest and he was seated comfortably on the ground.

I sat down too – but at a distance – and crossed my legs.

Jared sat silently staring at his fingers for a few minutes, and then his eyes flicked to my face and away.

"How's your forehead?" He asked with a hint of laughter in his voice.

I touched a few cold fingers to the spot and was pleased that it didn't hurt.

"Fine."

"Good." He rose gracefully to his feet and cleared the distance between himself and the door in a short number of steps.

My mind whirred out of control.

_Was _that_ it? Was that the whole damn reason he dragged me through the halls? To ask me about my friggin forehead?_

His next words erased that notion automatically. "Wait here. I…need to be alone for a few minutes." And with that he disappeared out the door.

I smacked myself in the forehead.

_Oh, great. Now it hurts._

Was that what he had wanted all along? To just be _alone_? Had I been following him foolishly thinking that he _wanted_ me there?

_Well…no. He was dragging you._

The truth of that bewildered me. Why would he drag me along if he was trying to get rid of me? Or maybe that was exactly what he was trying to do…get rid of me. Maybe that was why he was looking for some quiet spot without other people – so he could stash me away and go on with his life without me in it.

"Gah! What is he doing?"

I rose clumsily to my feet and walked briskly to the concrete picnic table in the middle of the courtyard. When I sat down I shivered against the cold and wrapped my arms around my middle.

"What is he doing? What is he doing? What is he doing?" I muttered it over and over like a mantra in a quiet voice.

"He doesn't know."

I jumped and twisted around to look at Jared with wide eyes – his face was sheepish.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

"What do you mean you don't know?" My voice was suspicious and that made his eyes grow sad. I chewed on the inside of my cheek – I hadn't meant to insult him.

My eyes followed his approach closely. He came to stand a few feet in front of me.

"I mean…I'm confused." His forehead crinkled and he glared down at his shoes. "You're confusing Kim."

"I-I am?" My voice was high and reedy with surprise. When had this conversation turned around on me?

"Shit, yeah." Jared laughed and dropped down onto his knees in front of me.

I found it both annoying and endearing that his head was level with mine while he was kneeling.

"Kim I've been trying to figure you out for over a month – and every time I think I have it, you go and do something…like…being a vegetarian-banana-hater, and I have to start all over again." His words almost blended together he was talking so fast. "Every new thing I learn about you throws another theory out the window and I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing."

I held up a hand to stop him. Something wasn't connecting for me.

"Why have you been trying to figure me out?"

Jared's eyes went wide like he'd said something he hadn't meant to. His hands flashed up to cover his face as he shook his head.

"I…you…"

_Oh great stammer-boy's back. _I was preparing myself for more dragging as he pulled himself to his feet, but he didn't reach out to grab my wrist like I expected him to. He just turned around to face the wall and rolled his shoulders a few times.

"Kim would you mind if I were around you more?" he asked in a voice so soft I had to strain to hear it.

My mouth fell open.

"What?" I rasped in a weak voice. Surely I hadn't heard him right…

"Would you mind if you and me were…around each other more often?"

My heart spluttered and then stopped. Whatever my heart had realized, my brain hadn't yet.

"Together…how?"

Jared sighed and turned around to face me again. He slid down onto his knees in front of me like he had minutes before; but this time he was closer.

His eyes held a serious expression I'd never seen before.

"Together like we were yesterday and this morning." His voice was velvet. "Together alone." His hand slithered up to rest above mine. He hesitated, then gave in to resolve and grasped it in his anyways.

I could feel every beat of my heart as it pumped back to life.

"Together…alone?" My voice squeaked from the nerves and he took that as a bad sign. He quickly released my hand and rose to his feet so that he could back away from me. I almost whimpered.

"We don't have to be alone if you don't want to…I mean…we could go to a party or hang out with the kids at your lunch table. You've got brothers don't you? They're probably cool. We could hang out with them if you wanted to." His voice got higher and higher with every suggestion and a smile crept onto my face. He was so cute when he was nervous.

"I wouldn't mind…being alone that is." I murmured and his eyes shot open wide. He started pacing again.

"Well then we could…we could…go to Seattle this weekend, or go to the lake, or…"

"Yes." My mind reacted so quickly _I_ was shocked by the declaration.

It about floored Jared.

"Yes?" His voice was excited and he came to kneel in front of me again. "Did you say yes?"

"Yes." I was soaring. My body felt as light as a feather and my head was in the clouds.

_Is this what heaven is like?_

"Yes t-to what? The lake or Seat-"

"Yes."

"Both?"

"Yes."

Jared swallowed and his face split in half with a cheek breaking smile. I'd never seen anybody look that happy – especially at me.

"Well then w-we can be together all w-weekend." I could see the gears turning in his head. "I'll pick you up early in the morning – that way we'll have all day…" He absentmindedly checked the silver watch he always wore, and then he did a double take.

"Uh-uh…class starts soon I have to go." He was breathing heavily – excitedly. I thought he might explode. "We'll talk tomorrow okay? I – we…" Jared shook his head as if dispelling cobwebs, then leaned forward and pressed his warm lips against my forehead.

My entire body shut down except for my eyes. They seemed permanently open at the moment.

"Bye," Jared called over his shoulder just as the first bell rang loud in the courtyard.

I couldn't move. Breathing, thinking – they were both out of the question.

"Jared Brooks just asked me out." I whispered to myself.

_Jared Brooks just asked me out._

I could feel a ball of excitement red hot deep inside my stomach and as I released it, a smile cracked my face.

_Jared Brooks just kissed my forehead._

My breathing quickened until I sounded like I'd just run a marathon.

_Ho-ly chicken shit._

"Jared Brooks just asked me out."

I went through the rest of the day in a daze – if I was called on by a teacher I answered, if a friend greeted me in the hallways I acknowledged them; but I had only one train of thought.

"Jared Brooks just asked me out." I muttered to Heather as I collapsed into the bus seat next to her. She squealed and rambled on and on about how she "knew it was going to happen," and various other tid-bits. I didn't really hear any of it. All the way home I listened to her voice without hearing what she was saying – and when I got of the bus, I ignored Brandon's questions.

When I walked up our driveway and saw my father in the garden, I didn't stop smiling. I opened the front door, shrugged out of my book bag, and skidded into the kitchen; still wearing the smile from hours before.

"What's with the smile Little Bird?" Lucas asked me – apparently through with his hang over – and peeled a banana.

I ignored the habit and folded myself into a chair.

"Jared Brooks asked me out." I murmured – and then added the part that had my mind reeling and stomach knotting with excitement. "And I said yes.

Any happiness I felt – any hope or joy or love – was washed right down the drain as the sound of both my father and uncle's angry voices broke through the utter silence that had fallen in the kitchen.

"What?" They shouted simultaneously.

I felt dizzy. Suddenly I realized that whatever Uncle John was here for – to tell me the ugly truth about Jared – was about to be revealed.

And from the purple color of the two brother's faces…I wasn't going to like it.

Read, REVIEW, and be merry. :)

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	13. Chapter 13

**Howdy. Let me just start by groveling. I am so so so so so so so so so so so sorry it took me this long to update. I was going to update like...Monday I swear; but some extended-family stuff came up and trust me that's taken ALL of my time and energy to deal with so...I'm sorry. I really really do regret not updating this sooner and I know there are a few of you that want to bite my head off or something - just know before you eat me that it was absolutely vital that I be there for the "Incident" and that I'm not doing it to spite you or something. **

**Well, putting all that groveling behind us, I have to say I'm fairly pleased with this chapter. I should be, since I've had a very long time to work on it. It's a big one and sets up a lot of future conflicts and stuff that's absolutely vital for the rest of this story. (While I'm on that, don't you think it's interesting that this thing started out as a Two-Shot?) There's no Jared in this (sob) but even so...it's a very interesting read...I hope.**

**I also need to thank all you wonderful readers and reviewers out there, because last chapter I got something ridiculous like 38 reviews - which might not seem like a lot to some of you but it pretty much floored me - so you can imagine I'm pretty gol durn happy. THANK YOU! I hope I get such an enthusiastic response on this one - at least some response. Some of you might not like this chapter...trust me I'm biting my nails off waiting to hear what you think. So...read, review, and be merry. I love you guys, and I'm hoping to have the next chapter up VERY soon...like tomorrow night or at the very least Sunday afternoon. It's an exciting one and I want to get it up as soon as possible, so the wait won't be as long as it was for this one.**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own them. Pinky promise.**

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The term 'dead as a doornail' is the only way I can think to describe my mental activities as I avoided the red hot stares of my father and uncle that night. We were alone in the living room – my brothers both having fled the moment they sniffed trouble – and a heavy silence had settled in the air.

My gaze wandered to the dying fern on top of the bookshelf – to the pile of unread mail sitting innocently on the kitchen counter – the single shoe lying outside filling to the laces with rain. I _saw_ all of these things – at least registered their existence – but I didn't really _see _them. The pursuit of something…anything to look at had nothing to do with my eyeballs growing bored; I just couldn't bring myself to look at the seething faces of the two men that had raised me.

Because if I looked at them, sunk into their heated glares and let myself face the truth, I wouldn't be able to control myself any longer. I was _not_ about to go screaming up the stairs and hide under the covers – so I settled for aversion.

The plan worked – as most of my master plans do – for a total of three minutes. Three minutes was all it took for my resolve to break, and I finally faced them…

And then had to look away again because the look they both shared was too much for me to handle.

Our family was known for avoiding serious conversations. (I wasn't the only Miller capable of aversion tactics.) Anything that needed to be said – unsettled feelings or an argument over something stupid, usually just festered and boiled…before eventually passing away and leaving us to be. Brandon was the only one in our gene pool even _capable _of handling stressful situations; but he'd fled and now we were stuck. When these feelings or arguments couldn't be resolved the usual way – ignoring them – a conversation had to be issued.

The discomfort was obvious on all of our faces as the three of us struggled for something to say. My mind – working on its own these days – decided to break the silence before either of them could.

"Did Aunt Becky call this morning?" I asked lamely, and then stared at my feet in embarrassment.

Without answering my question or even pausing to breathe, my father launched into the story I know I'll never forget. He painted a picture of La Push, peaceful and quiet nestled into the Washington Coastline, with the tall evergreen trees dotting the reservation – the marina on the water and all the little shops that hugged the coast.

Then his story took on an almost violent edge and one name came across very clearly: Sam Uley.

I'd heard about Sam. A few years earlier his girlfriend had been attacked by a bear down by the river – ripped half of her face off from what I'd heard. I didn't know him, and I was sure I'd never seen him, but according to the people that worked at the hospital, he'd been so torn up over her attack that he could hardly move. Anyone that loved _that _fiercely couldn't be a bad person.

The way my dad described him though – it made me think that maybe he wasn't frozen from fear. Dad said that Sam was part of a cult – a cult that had been around the Quileute reservation for hundreds of years. They called themselves "The Protectors" and were supposedly dangerous. Which made absolutely no sense to me.

_Since when was protecting someone a bad thing?_

And then the definition of the word _cult_ came to me, and I realized that maybe, The Protectors weren't protecting something good.

"Until two years ago," my father explained. "The Protectors were thought to have faded into legend."

An idea prickled in the back of my mind but I shoved it away into nothingness. It was absurd…impossible.

_Jared wouldn't get involved in a cult!_

And then, because denial was the greatest weapon in my arsenal of ignorance, I starting handing out the blame.

"What does any of this have to do with Jared, Dad?" I asked. My voice was strong – assertive. I almost smiled but that would have been stupid so I squashed the tiny victory.

My relatives shared a look that made my skin crawl and my father came to sit next to me on the couch.

"Sweetheart we think he's in it. We think Jared's a Protector."

My reaction was so inappropriate I almost smacked myself; I laughed. Not a dainty little titter…oh no. I would have put Oprah Winfrey to shame with the bellow I let out.

"You…" I swallowed the next wave of hysteria and managed to finish. "You think Jared Brooks is in a cult?"

That idea – the prickly one I'd killed only moments before – set up camp right in the front of my mind until I couldn't ignore it any longer.

My laughter ended abruptly – like my voice had died in my throat.

_Jared._

Jared Brooks who looked _exactly_ like half of the boys he hung out with.

Jared Brooks who had so much mystery and secrecy in his life it was like a puzzle just to figure out his favorite color.

Jared Brooks who had disappeared for two weeks from school, and came back completely different – sulky and angry. With all his hair cut off and brand new muscles…

_Oh shit._

"That's why we were worried sweetie," my uncle broke into my short-circuiting thoughts and came to kneel in front of me with his hand on my leg. "You don't want to be mixed up with someone like that."

I tried to fight it really I did, but I couldn't help thinking: _Yes I do._

"See Kimmy," my dad said. "In the old cult, they recruited young women to help them – feed them, clothe them…keep them…company." I watched the rosy tint climb up my father's neck, and I probably would have laughed again if it were possible. As it was, I was frozen, stuck, and unable to move or think. But he wasn't done yet. "These women usually ended up scarred and hurt – just like Sam's girlfriend was – some of them went insane, talking about mythical creatures and the sort."

Uncle John jumped in here. "We think Jared was trying to get you into the cult honey."

_Sheesh._

"Oh," I sighed and closed my eyes.

This was the point that I realized my love for Jared was way more than love…it was like I was possessed with this…_need_ for him.

Because it didn't scare me that he wanted me to join a dangerous cult where I could get hurt. I wasn't worried that he could be mixed up in something that could endanger his life. No, because all of that would have actually _made sense_.

I was so relieved that he wasn't an axe murderer, or a rapist… or something nationally recognized as evil that I was almost smiling – almost. My Jared remained heavenly in my eyes – though under the pretences, he probably shouldn't have – and that was something to be happy about.

_Thank God. He's only going to suck me into a dangerous gang that could potentially drive me insane! At least it's not something really bad…like a bank robber or something._

"So," I started with an extremely cheery voice. Both my father and uncle jumped at the sudden change of atmosphere. "Can I go with him on Saturday?"

It would be an understatement to say that my father exploded – what happened to him was like…a full on nuclear reaction right in the middle of my living room. Of course, he didn't yell – Henry Miller never yelled out of anger – he just stood very slowly with his eyes bulging, glaring down at me. That animal-vein of his was trying to jump out of his neck again and his hands were balled together so tightly I thought he would break his fingers.

"What?" he hissed – which was so much more dangerous than yelling. His nostrils flared in anticipation of my answer and I spluttered to choke it out.

"Ca-Can I g-go with him on S-Saturday?" My tongue felt gigantic in my mouth as I tried to answer him without crying.

_Why is he so angry?_

At the time, I failed to see how demented my conclusion of Jared must have been. I just didn't understand _how_ my father and uncle could see this…_cult_ nonsense as a bad thing; after all, he could have been something much, _much_ worse.

"Kimberly Norene," my uncle shouted.

My_ father_ didn't yell – my uncle…_definitely did._

"How can you even consider going anywhere with him? He's _dangerous_!"

I shrunk into the cushions of the couch and my eyes darted between their two furious faces.

"I-I…He's not-"

"John can I talk to my daughter alone?" My father's face was no longer purple and the animal tearing out of his neck had fallen asleep. It almost shocked me how quickly he calmed down.

Uncle John shot me a venomous look – almost like I'd betrayed him somehow – and turned on his heel to march towards the garage. The door slammed shut loudly and my hands shot up to cover my ears.

_Well, hell. He's mad._

"Kim," my father's voice pulled my attention away from the place my uncle had stood only moments before. He locked eyes with me and suddenly I felt as if I were five years old.

"Papa I-"

"Why do you still want to go with him Kimberly? Did you even hear _anything_ we said?"

My forehead crinkled. "I did."

"Then why are you even considering being alone with him?"

_Because he's Jared. Because I love him and need him and want him…_

"I don't think he's dangerous Dad." I whispered truthfully. Though I doubted that even if he _was_ dangerous I would have considered passing up a date opportunity. "Jared's always been…sweet to me."

Which was a lie since he'd only acknowledged my existence a couple months before; but since realizing I was alive he'd been…humane to me.

"Kimmy I'm just worried that you're letting your hormones get in the way of rationality. I tell you this boy is trying to make you join a cult and you want to know if you're still allowed to go out with him. That doesn't sound like the Kim I know."

_Maybe that's because this is the first real conversation we've had in the seventeen years I've been breathing. _

"Dad, he's…" I sighed and pushed the heels of my hands into my eyes. "He's not in a cult. I don't care what you and your brother think; I don't care what history says. Jared Brooks is _not_ a Protector, so unless you have a better reason, for me not to… I'm going."

I surprised myself by sounding strong and confident – very un-Kim like. It almost floored my dad. His eyes widened and his jaw flew open with a loud _pop!_

"Kimberly he just…" I felt confident as he struggled to answer. He didn't have another reason and I knew it – I was home free. "He doesn't come from a good family."

I rolled my eyes.

_Give it up old man._

"Nobody's got a perfect family Dad; just look at us." I motioned towards the garage where we could both hear a steady string of curses exploding from Uncle John. "What's wrong with his?"

My confidence was shocking; I was filled with a kind of bubbly electricity that empowered me to be someone else. Not Kim but…Super Kim.

_Fast as a speeding bullet…_

"Well," my dad's twisted features suddenly brightened as a burst of intuition struck him. "His sister already has a baby and she's only-"

"His sister's twenty years old Dad. She's in college and married so having a baby is a _logical_ plan of action."

Super Kim – 1. Sir-Dumb-Founded – 0.

My dad screwed up his face and thought for a minute. "His father doesn't work and now his wife has to-"

"His dad got hurt working in construction so he retired. The government pays him every month so he still supports his family even though he doesn't' have a job."

Super Kim – 2. Sir-Dumb-Founded – 0.

Dad raised an eyebrow and spewed out his next example. "His mother works at that strip club in Seattle-"

"His mom _owns_ the bar – she doesn't have anything to do with what they do inside it."

Super Kim -2…let's face it. I was kicking his self righteous butt.

My father rubbed his hands over his face and sighed. He looked exhausted and I caught him eying the stairway to his bedroom wistfully. Then his eyebrows shot up and he turned to face me once again.

"Why do you know so much about Jared's family?"

My face instantly grew hot and I could picture steam venting out my ears. I gulped and tried to come up with an excuse that wouldn't sound like a lie.

"I…I've been going to school with him since I was seven."

_Good girl._

Dad groaned and rested his head in his hands for a few seconds before standing up and stretching. I heard his joints pop and shot him a questioning look.

"You're not going with him on Saturday Kimberly. I don't care if his family is normal – I don't want you alone with Jared."

The heat in my face suddenly turned its fuel from embarrassment to anger. The fury bubbled just under my skin and I gave myself over to its power.

"Why not?" I shouted and my dad jumped. "Give me one good reason not to trust Jared – _Jared_ Dad, not his family – and _maybe _I'll _consider_ not going."

There was a long simmering pause and my father went to stand by the sliding glass door. His eyes searched deep into the darkening woods and he sighed.

"Sweetheart, Jared – he…well he's…" As my father struggled – I died. My insides turned ice cold and twisted in uncomfortable knots that made me cringe. _This_ was the bad thing – the actual reason I wasn't allowed to be with Jared. The reason my dad had made Uncle John and my brother's leave.

_Oh, God. Please, please, please no._

"Do you remember D.J. Creek?" My father asked suddenly and my mouth fell open with the shock of it.

"Of course I do, she was my chemistry partner last year." My voice was small and shaky – such a contrast to my earlier strength that my father whirled around to give me a concerned look.

"Honey, do you remember why she left La Push?"

My eyes flipped wide open and I had to sprint to the bathroom before I displayed my lunch for the world to see. I barely made it to the toilet before my PB and J sandwich came up to greet me.

I remembered _exactly_ why she left and once my brain made the connection, I had to fight the bile rising in my throat again. D.J. Creek had always been a nice girl who had good morals and – we thought – was a very responsible kid. Then the last day of junior year – after a two month absence - she shows up with a lump the size of a football underneath her T-shirt. D.J. Creek was pregnant, and nobody knew who the father was.

_God damn it. _My forehead smacked into the cold porcelain as I once again emptied the contents of my stomach into the bowl. I grappled for the tiny switch and pulled hard; my reward was the gratifying sound of a toilet flush.

_D.J. Creek._

She had refused to tell anyone who the father was – anyone at all. Her parents didn't know, her best friend was clueless – I'd never seen anyone keep a secret as well as D.J. Creek could. For the two months she stuck around QTS, there was a huge controversy surrounding the poor girl – everyone thought she'd been raped or something – and she had to get out before things got too ugly.

A few weeks ago her mother had called in and announced that D.J. had gone into labor earlier that morning, and delivered a healthy baby girl the previous hour. D.J.'s baby girl was named Laura Rose, and both the mommy and the baby were perfectly healthy. Of course this news kicked the rumors right back up into the air; but at least it showed that nobody had forgotten her.

But it wasn't the tragedy of teenage pregnancy that had me puking my guts out all over the bathroom. It was the way Dad had raised his eyebrows _right after_ bringing up D.J. being pregnant – the way he used this as his reason for me not dating Jared. The way he nodded when my eyes widened with suspicion and the way he mouthed 'I'm sorry' at me in the mirror now, while I hurled like a fiend because I was just so damn sick.

I knew who Laura Rose Creek's father was.

And he'd just asked me out.

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**I can almost guarantee that none of you saw that coming. I hope the surprise lived up to your expectations - if not let me know...gently. Read, review, be merry. I love you guys!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Howdy. I'm going to start this off by saying, that I'm not going to apologize for taking so long. Basically...life caught up with me. Senior year, captain of the volleyball team, boyfriend, car accidents and family funerals...yeah. Life caught up with me. Anyways, as it usually goes, this chapter didn't fully take form until about two days ago. I toyed with different beginnings and endings, emotions, lines, characters...and none of it fit until like, Thursday night. But, now...I love it. my schedule's calmed down quite a bit - except for volleyball - and my writing has fallen back into it's usual groove, so we're good to go. This story should be updated pretty soon because the next chapter is like...my favorite one so far. :) **

**Okay, this chapter is the longest one I've ever written. Enjoy it. Read, review, be merry. Make me smile like you guys did on the last one - fifty eight reviews! That's my record, and you better believe it makes me happy. :)**

**DISCLAIMER: Well...I own everyone in this chapter except for Jared. Unfortunately he's the only one I _want_ to own. :)**

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I had already resigned myself to the fact that school today – namely school with Jared today – was going to be a complete and total hell, and of course I was right; I just hadn't expected the shit to hit the fan so early. Now, I wasn't exactly shocked when Brandon came downstairs and announced that our bus had broken down in the QTS parking lot, and we were going to have to be driven to school; but that was only because those buses were held together with bubblegum and duct tape, and catastrophes like this one were common business in La Push. I wasn't happy about the situation though – not at all.

Our father had left for work early – his excuse being that he wanted to get in a few extra hours before Christmas break rolled around – and Uncle John was the only lucid adult in the house with my brother and I. Though I wanted to be, and probably should have been, I was not mad at my uncle. Sure, he'd yelled at me and tried to make the unrequited love of my life out to be the bad guy; but Uncle John was the one person in the world I could _never_ be mad at. Except Jared.

So I wasn't mad at him _per se_…but I wasn't happy with him either. And I didn't want him driving me to school. Lucas was upstairs, hung over from his liquor cabinet raid last night and quite incapable of driving anyone anywhere, so my choices were few; but I wasn't getting in a car with Uncle John. Period.

"Well kids," our uncle announced and stumbled into the kitchen with coffee cup in hand. His hair was sticking up in all sorts of odd tangled formations. "Your father's gone so I'll drive you to school today. What time do we need to leave?" He yawned.

"Seven-"

"I can drive us." My voice was harsh and it cut into Brandon's mumbled reply like a knife through butter.

Uncle John raised a lazy eyebrow and scoffed. "No you can't," he drawled. "I heard about your little Lexus incident young lady, so if you think I'm letting you drive _my_ car in the _rain_…you're nuts."

I scowled into my cereal bowl. "Fine."

Uncle John nodded and turned around to fill his mug with more coffee. "Good, what time do we-"

"We'll walk then."

The silence after my statement was almost painful. I stood slowly and approached the sink at snail pace – hell…a snail could have lapped me at the rate I was going, just waiting for some reaction from my family.

"But Kim," Brandon finally whined and jammed his thumb towards the kitchen window. "It's pouring buckets outside!"

My gaze followed his pointing finger to the near solid wall of water dumping from our gutters. I could see one massive puddle forming in the dirt driveway outside the house, tiny ripples dancing across its surface.

"We'll be fine," I assured him and rumpled his hair on my way out into the hall. "People are washable." I pushed past my stunned uncle and ascended the stairs with surprising grace for someone who had trouble walking on flat surfaces.

Honestly, I was on Brandon's side of the argument. I didn't _want_ to walk a mile in the sheeting rain, while my makeup ran and my hair poofed up to gargantuan sizes; but I _really_ didn't want to drive to school with my uncle who I'd recently decided could go crawl under a rock.

So, I was going to walk. I was going to risk my hair and my face, just to avoid him.

_This is what my life has come to. Fantastic._

xXx

"I told you this was a bad idea."

"I know you did."

"Then stop complaining. It's all your fault." My hand flew up and smacked Brandon in the back of the head. "Ow! It's true!"

I groaned and crossed my arms tightly over my chest. "I know it is."

Apparently I had underestimated Mother Nature's downright _loathing_ of Washington State, because in the two minutes since we'd left the house, Brandon and I had become completely soaked. The freezing water droplets had trickled right on through our expensive gortex raincoats – the ones that were guaranteed to keep us dry – our gloves and our shoes. Our idiot father had never once thought to buy a nice umbrella, even though we lived in _La Push_ – we had a million pairs of super-reflective _sun_glasses, but not one damn _rain repelling _umbrella.

_Which you know, can come in handy in the Pacific Northwest._

So we were soaking wet, and it was entirely our uncle's – and partly my cheap father's - fault. (Actually, it was my ego that had caused this; but it was also my ego that prevented me from admitting that it was my ego.)

"You just _had_ to spite him didn't you Kim?" Brandon swung his soggy rain boot at the nearest roadside dandelion he could find. "Why couldn't you just…get over yourself this _one_ morning and do me a favor?"

My mouth popped open and my hand shot out to grab my brother around the wrist. I tugged his arm until he was facing me and sent my best, "You are so dead mister," glare at him.

"Excuse me?" I growled. "Need I remind you that I have been taking care of you _every _morning since you were born?" He glared at his muddy boots, avoiding my gaze – so I grabbed his chin and made him look at me. "I have been doing favors for you your entire life Brandon. I changed your diapers and fed you; held your hand when you were scared, kept a smile on your face when you were in pain. "My voice had slowly softened from my growling rage, and now that I wasn't yelling at him, Brandon quit struggling and met my gaze with his big brown eyes. "One morning for _me_, Brandon – that's all I ask." His lip quivered.

I hated it when he did this to me – the "I'm so sorry, I love you," puppy dog look that always made me feel like the devil no matter what I'd done to cause it. I sighed and released his chin, sending water droplets down his face and neck. I laughed as he scrambled to wipe them away. "You'll be fine you baby, its water." I chuckled. "It's not acid or lava or…hot sauce even – it's just _water._"

"I know," he mumbled with a smile. I mimicked his gesture and pulled his shoulders into a quick embrace.

"You're a booger; but I love you kid." I sighed and held him at arms length – just to get a good look at him – and realized with some confusion that he wasn't looking at me. Instead, his eyes were focused on something over my left shoulder.

I furrowed my eyebrows and glanced back to see what had caught his attention.

A red jeep was sloshing through rain puddles on the gravel road behind us. I groaned. I would have known who was driving even if I hadn't seen the dark-skinned boy behind the wheel, hunched over because he was too tall to sit up straight with the top up.

"Perfect," I moaned. Her I was, really honest to God not thinking about Jared for the first time in a long time…and he just has to drive up behind me while I'm walking to school. Even better, was the fact that for once in my life I didn't want to see him?

How many times had I fantasized about Jared Brooks saving me from a downpour, with a big smile on his face and a kiss waiting for me? Millions. And the _one_ time I _don't_ want him to, the one time I could have lived without his face – he's there.

"Just perfect."

"Kim, who is that?" Brandon whispered and inched closer to me. I chewed on the inside of my cheek and listened as the sound of tires turning slowed to a stop and I could feel the heat from the Jeep's engine steaming up the air next to us. Jared would want to give us a ride, I would refuse, and an argument would occur whether we wanted it to or not – it wasn't a battle I would win, of that I was certain. So, for fear of my little brother catching a cold, I gave in before the war started.

"Just get in the car, Brandon." I whispered. My hand rose up automatically and pulled the door open with one easy tug. I was amused, for a moment, to realize that I was getting used to Jared's car. The thrill of excitement this realization sent through me was soon flattened by reality.

_You can't see him anymore Kim – you're not allowed to. Don't get used to it now; it'll only hurt worse later._

"Who-" Brandon started but I silenced him with one heated glance. Brandon's brow furrowed and he shot me a very calculating look, but he obliged and lifted himself into the idling Jeep.

"Hey," he mumbled and I heard Jared chuckle. The sound made my heart flutter…and it hurt.

"I'm not going to bite you kid, I promise." His voice sent my heart into the awkward and newly painful spasms once again.

_Why? Why does _everything_ have to be so damn complicated?_

I took one long steadying breath and then hoisted myself in next to my brother.

"Hey, Kim." Jared boomed – his voice was shockingly loud in the small cabin without the luxury of his convertible top being down. The volume didn't help my pain any.

"Hi," I mumbled. The old Kim took over for a moment and I had to glance at the glorious boy hunched over the steering wheel. He was smiling at me, his pearly white teeth a shocking contrast to his dark skin. His scruffy hair was wet and dangling adorably in front of his eyes like black silk curtains. He shook his head and a few tiny drops splashed onto my face. The breath caught in my throat and I had to look away.

I wanted him so badly it was literally painful. And for some…elusive reason, he wanted me too – at least enough to ask me out and seem excited about it. He had finally noticed me, and my father just had to go and squash that dream like an ugly intrusive beetle.

_This blows._

My teeth sawed into my bottom lip and it took me a few minutes to realize why it hurt so badly – I already had a battle wound from the bus ride yesterday with Jared when he'd tried to…kiss me…I slammed my eyes closed to stop the memory and only opened them again when I deemed it safe to do so – when I felt I wouldn't be producing any more pain inflicting memories.

Brandon was staring at me when I had enough peace of mind to focus my eyes on anything other than my raggedy fingernails. His eyes were narrowed the way they always were when he was thinking hard about something. He shifted his gaze discreetly to Jared, then back to me, then to Jared again – the circuit was completed numerous times before a look of understanding crossed his features. A look of understanding, and fear. His eyes shot open and suddenly I felt embarrassed under his heated glare.

Neither Brandon nor Lucas had been downstairs when my father and uncle had spoken to me about Jared's supposed cult activity; but I had a feeling that they both knew just as much as I did on the subject. They were masters at eavesdropping.

By the looks of things, Brandon had just discovered who our oh-so-willing chauffer was. He stiffened up and the grip he had on his backpack tightened until his knuckles were white. For a moment I found myself worrying about his blood pressure; but the I remembered that he was twelve and heart issues at that age were…well, not an issue.

I swallowed hard as a more disturbing thought occurred to me: Brandon could tell on me to Dad. We had passed up a chance to drive to school with our trusted uncle, and instead had taken a ride from an alleged cult member – an alleged cult member that I was banned from seeing ever again.

_Do. Not. Tell._ I ordered Brandon silently, trying to yell at him with my eyes rather than my words – mostly because if he wasn't in a cult, that accusation could seriously offend him, but also because if he _was_ in a cult…I didn't want him knowing I knew he was dangerous.

"Well," Jared announced, breaking the silent scolding session I was having with my brother. "Here we are."

I wrenched my eyes away from Brandon for a quick peek out the windshield and realized with amazement that we were already at school.

_That was fast._

Jared pulled smoothly into the parking lot and stopped right next to the curb in the "student load and unload" area. I opened my mouth to warn him, but Brandon reached across me to pop the door open, and without so much as a thank you, shoved me out of the car. I found this extremely rude so when he slid out behind me, I punched him in the arm.

"That was very-" Brandon grabbed the hand I'd hit him with and tugged me through the grass towards the main building with an annoyed and terrified look on his face.

Then I got it. He wanted me away from Jared – the scary cult man who had offered us a ride to school._ How devious. What a scoundrel. How dare he help us._

I frowned and yanked my hand free of his grasp. "Stop it," I snapped and turned around to wait for Jared so that we could at least thank him ;but he was turning the key in the ignition like he was going to leave…

"You're not staying?" I squeaked, my voice un-expectedly anxious.

_Way to play it cool, Kimmy._

Jared smiled at me but it looked strained…fake. "No, I've got a…meeting to go to."

Brandon gasped behind me and tugged on my hand again. "C'mon Kim!" he begged. I pulled my hand free of his nervous fingers and waved him away. I waited until he was out of the parking lot and grumbling quietly to himself to speak again.

"What kind of meeting?"

Another strained smile. "An important one." I nodded slowly.

"With Sam Uley?"

_Shit._ My teeth slammed down on my tongue and my eyes flew open wide. I hadn't meant to say it, really I hadn't. The gears in my head had started turning the moment he said he wasn't staying, and I just couldn't help my reaction.

_Guess this means I believe he's in the cult then._

Jared's eyes darkened and his grip on the steering wheel tightened. I could feel his piercing gaze inside my bones, burning deep inside of me, and I realized with a shock of intuition that I was afraid of him. I was afraid of Jared.

His eyes narrowed and then his face broke in an unexpected smile. He barked in laughter and shook his head. "Yeah, with Sam Uley."

I let out a breath I hadn't known I'd been holding as the irrational fear evaporated, and a small smile took control of my features. Jared locked eyes with me for a second – just one second – and my knees got all wobbly. Then he smiled and I had to lean against his car just so I wouldn't fall over.

A car horn behind the Jeep startled both of us out of our own private thoughts.

"Hang on a second!" Jared shouted out his window at the small line that had formed behind him. "We still on for this weekend?" He asked me hurriedly, still smiling so blindingly I could hardly think.

"Uh…um…"

_Another brilliant reply from Team Miller._

The angry line of people honked their horns in unison and I jumped, suddenly feeling the pressure of being in the spotlight.

"I uh…"

Someone else blasted their horn. "Come on Kim," Jared urged softly.

"My…my dad doesn't want me to go with you." I blurted, my voice shaking terribly. Jared's face fell, but I could still see a spark of his smile in his eyes.

"Oh…what do you want to do?"

I gasped, glanced at the growing line of pissed off cars and answered without thinking.

"I want to be with you," I whispered so quietly I didn't think he could possibly have heard me. I hoped he hadn't – I sounded like an idiot.

"Great, so…see you Saturday?" He repeated his earlier question, a radiant smile lighting his features. I couldn't breathe. My fingers fumbled with my backpack straps and I turned on my heel to leave.

"Yeah," I yelled over my shoulder. "Saturday's good..." I let my voice trail off until his voice broke the long droning sound of mine.

"Pick you up at five…in the morning." It was a good thing he drove away right then, because my brain exploded about two seconds later.

Kim Miller didn't _do_ five in the morning. She barely did _ten_ in the morning.

_Just fucking fabulous._

xXx

I spent the entire school day visualizing Jared Brooks with leaves tied to his head, dancing around a fire and chanting some weird voodoo-magic thing while simultaneously chewing on a bloody human leg and kicking puppies. That was what you did at cult meetings…right?

Maybe not – maybe Jared was in a…cool cult? One that like, played in giant ball pits and partied with non-creepy clowns, wore luau paraphernalia and sang twang-ey country ballads with Las Vegas rodeo champions or something.

Clearly, the rebellious side of my brain was not the brightest side of my brain – or even the shiniest. I had deliberately disobeyed my father – which had _never_ happened before – and was now for sure, one hundred percent, going out with Jared Brooks on Saturday.

_At five o'clock in the morning._ In all my years of admiring Jared, I had never realized that the ungodly beautiful man was a morning person. A morning person? That wasn't possible. Jared was perfect – how could he have such a…disease?

I only knew one other human being on the entire planet who enjoyed the cursed time of day, and that was my father – the very same father that was going to skin me and make a trophy out of my dead body when I told him what I'd done.

There was a part of me that wanted to just not go on Saturday – act like I'd forgotten all about it and save my own ass so I could live to see another day; but then there was the Kim side of my brain. The Kim side, couldn't bare the idea of passing up a date with Jared Brooks, even under pain of death. The Kim side wanted to go; to break the rules and be a…_teenager_ for once.

The Kim side won. I was going to wake up at five in the morning, and get in a car with Jared. We were going to drive four hours to Seattle and…what? Hang out? I didn't even know what we were supposed to be doing in Seattle, but I would be with _him_ so it didn't matter. We could have been clipping our fingernails for all I cared.

The wall I kept running into was the _how._ I had a serious problem lying to my father – not a morality problem…I just couldn't do it. Not even to be with Jared. So, the way I saw it, I had two choices.

Choice number one: I tell my father the truth – and run like hell for a bomb shelter somewhere in northern Germany…just to be safe. My father didn't exactly have a history in angry bouts of destruction; but you never knew. Mailmen went crazy all the time and my father was a prime candidate under the circumstances.

Choice number two: Since lying wasn't an option, I could simply avoid my father. It would be tricky, especially with a testosterone filled house that favored attention; but I could do it. I _was_ the only girl in the house and so I had a few rights to privacy. If I turned on the waterworks and yelled about my feelings or something, fake PMS could save me from facing my father at all until Saturday morning.

If I got caught leaving the house at five however, my cover would be blown. I doubted that there was anyone in my family that didn't know of my downright _hate_ of mornings – so seeing me downstairs, ready to go, and out the door before ten on a weekend would definitely draw some unwanted attention to my situation.

I was – for lack of a better term – in a pickle. At least, that's what Heather said when I called her that night, distraught and confused like a little sixth grader who's got her first date. I hadn't exactly explained the entire situation – none of the cult business or possible fatherhood was mentioned – but just kept things simple. My daddy didn't want me dating Jared, and I had gone behind his back and said yes anyways.

Heather had been the right person to go to – she was a master at lying to authority figures.

"Oh my, my, my. What will we do to solve this conundrum?" She teased, her breath making an annoying crackling sound into the phone.

"Come on Heather!" I whined and collapsed noisily onto my bed. "Don't mock me this is a critical situation! My father is going to murder me – do you want that? Do you want me to _die_?" It was hard not to laugh at how hysteric my voice was, but somehow I managed it. Heather however, did not. It was a full three minutes before she could calm down enough to speak.

"Take it easy drama queen, I've got a plan." Her voice was absolutely seething with pride. Though I loved the girl, and she was probably one of my best friends in the entire world; but in the past her plans had been…disastrous at best. Like the time she decided we could outrun the train on her brother's dirt bikes; or the time she told me I could fly if I taped garbage bags to my arms and jumped from the highest point in her grandfather's shed…alright so I'll admit those catastrophe's weren't completely _Heather's_ fault; but they'd all been her ideas.

"What kind of plan?" I asked warily.

I could almost hear the smile on her face as she answered:

"A genius one."


	15. Chapter 15

**Howdy! I'm baaaaaaack! Muahaha. Sorry for the wait my pets, life's rough all over ya know? **

**I would love it if those of you who are still loyal, who still want to hear about Kim and Jared, and who haven't decided to loathe this story since I haven't updated since August...I would just really really love it if you could review. That would be great. :)**

**Read, review, be merry. Look for an update...MUCH sooner than this one. ;)**

**P.S. This chapter's extra long, just for you. Enjoy!**

* * *

Brandon was asleep on the kitchen floor when I trudged down the stairs to hang up the phone. He had a half eaten bowl of cereal between his legs and an open book draped over his chest; I smirked. It had always bothered me that he could sleep _anywhere_ in _any_ position and be perfectly rested.

I slipped the phone back into it's charger on the counter, plucked the book off of his chest, put the cereal in the sink and gently shook him awake.

"C'mon Brand, time for bed," I whispered. His eyes fluttered open and he gurgled a reply. I dragged him to his feet by his elbow and let him lean on me as we ascended the stairs. The back of his hair was plastered to his scalp and sticking up like a porcupine but I decided to let him deal with that in the morning – he probably wouldn't have understood me anyways with the way he was teetering back and forth.

He pushed his door open with his head, took two steps, tripped over a game controller, and collapsed with a thud onto his bed without pulling down the sheets.

_Right. Well, that's one way to do it._ I preferred the _between _the sheets method…but hey. Whatever floats your boat.

As I watched him sink into a deep sleep my eyelids floated downwards and pretty soon I was fighting just to stand up.

"Night Brand," I mumbled and tugged his door shut as I retreated from dream land. From where I was standing I could see my bed, big and warm, calling me into its loving arms. _And there it is, the cheese at the end of the maze._

I was suddenly so dizzily exhausted that I had to really concentrate just to put one foot in front of the other. Right over left over right over left…it was a very complicated process. Eventually I "right over left-ed" myself through my door, flipped off the lights, patted the umbrella I'd unearthed behind the freezer in the garage and crawled into bed. The second my head hit the pillow, all thoughts were blown out of my mind and I sunk happily into an easy slumber.

_Oh, sweet release…_

"Eeeeeeeeah!" A blood curdling scream broke the silence of my sleep and my eyes flashed open in surprise.

_What the…_ I lifted my head only slightly to scope the room for monsters and when it was secure and beastie-free, I crashed again.

"Eeeeeeeeah!" I bolted upright this time, head swimming, stomach churning. My heart leapt into my throat and pounded out an awkward, uncomfortable rhythm.

I waited. One minute. Two minutes, three minutes. By the time five minutes had gone by without any movement from me, I was ready to pass out from the strain of sitting upright.

_Screw it._ I collapsed onto my pillow again, confident now that I was just hearing things.

_That's what I get for listening to loud mus-_

"Eeeeeeeeah!"

_-ic._

I threw my covers off violently and bounded to my window with newfound, adrenaline pumped energy. Suddenly thankful that my father never remembered to turn off the back porch light, I squinted my eyes and scoured the woods for something…anything.

Shadow after scary shadow wound its way through the trees in my back yard, but nothing seemed…off. The only sound was my ragged breathing and it added an eerie effect to my already palpable terror. Minutes passed without anything moving and that terrible screeching didn't come again; but still I couldn't leave. There was something out there, I knew it. There _had_ to be something out there.

_Great. Watch as, on top of everything else, I'm insane too._

With a sigh, I resigned myself to a life of padded walls, straight jackets, and men with big needles – and then I saw it. A tiny twitch of a shadow in my peripheral vision. I balked. My eyes flew open and the breath caught in my throat – I wanted to turn and run, dive under the safe cover of my blankets and hide until the light came out; but I couldn't move.

That _tiny twitch_ turned into a heave of massive shoulders, a staggering few steps deeper into the woods…whatever was out there was huge, colossal, gigantic. I couldn't comprehend the sheer size of it…there was nothing in nature that looked quite like _that._ The shadow shuddered and began moving jerkily through the trees – it almost looked like it was…dragging something.

"Eeeeeeeeah!" The sound came again and thrust me back into the land of the living. My heart kick started and my lungs re-inflated as I scrambled backwards and collapsed, thrashing into my bed. I threw the covers over my head and curled myself into a tight little ball.

_What the hell was that?_ Even my inner voice was shaking with fear. My mind swam through the possibilities, each one more terrifying and ridiculous than the last. Wolf, mountain lion, bear, jaguar…_monster._ Some terrifying combination of all of them…

I had no idea what I had seen in the woods, or even if it had been real, but I knew one thing was for certain.

I wasn't going to be falling asleep anytime soon.

_Whoop-dee-fricken-doo._

xXx

The next day started off bad and just kept getting worse. I was so exhausted from last night's terror fest that I slept through my alarm and woke up half an hour late. Then, in my haste to get into the shower before my father started the laundry and took up all the hot water, I tripped over my chair and stubbed my toe so hard it turned purple on contact. I still tried hobbling into the shower, only to discover that Daddy Dearest had in fact, already started his _precious_ laundry. I stood in the bathroom for a while, sputtering and making faces at myself in the mirror. There was just no way I was going to go to school without a shower.

So I washed my hair in the sink and used face pads to wash my face. The process was quick but I still had to scramble back into my room to save time. And of course, I stubbed my gimpy toe. Again.

My concealer wouldn't blend and my foundation – which was about two years old so I really shouldn't have been surprised – was clumpy, separated and made me look like a leper with Chicken Pox. I stabbed myself in the eye _twice_ with my mascara wand, which turned the whites of my eyes grey and made me look like a zombie. The only eyeliner I owned broke and wouldn't sharpen; I couldn't cover the bags under my eyes and my lip-gloss exploded in my hand when I jerked it out of the drawer.

I couldn't get my hair to straighten or curl, it looked terrible when I put it in a bun, and a ponytail made me look sloppy, so I gave up and just left it natural. I would have been better off in an orange hair net.

Then I could only find one pair of dirty too-big jeans on my floor, my failsafe – or…ex-failsafe – QTS sweatshirt was apparently in my father's laundry load, and the only other quick and convenient shirt I could find was Lucas' Seahawks jersey that was too small for him but looked like a tent on me. There was not a single pair of matching socks in my room so I had one green striped foot and one pink polka-dotted foot. I couldn't find my Converse so I put on my gray and blue hiking boots – the ones that looked like clown shoes – and headed down the stairs.

_Wow. Definitely not my day._

Oh, but the morning wasn't over yet. Apparently my only sober ally in the house, Brandon, had gone over to the dark side. And Uncle John was his recruiter.

_Drove Brand to school. Going_

_to corner store for smokes, be back_

_soon. School called, bus schedule_

_is back to normal._

_-John_

_Little traitor._ I thought. Of course, _of course_ I could understand Brandon being a little pissed at me after I had practically chosen Jared over him the day before, but this was definitely not his usual way of approaching conflicts. He was _always_ the one to speak first, to address the problem and try to solve it; so I was having a little bit of trouble understanding why this little spat was any different.

_Ungrateful little…I bet he's just mad because I didn't fix his porcupine head last night._

Crap. Last night. Scary possibly-dreamed-shadow-monsters. I gulped as visions from last night passed before my eyes. _What was that thing?_

"Kim?" I let out a little shriek and whirled around to face my father, frozen mid-step with a cup of coffee in his hand.

He raised an eyebrow to my little…episode, but otherwise did nothing. We stood there awkwardly for a few minutes in one of our famous silent face-offs, eyes roaming anywhere but onto each other. I hadn't spoken to him since our conversation about Jared earlier in the week and he hadn't tried talking to me.

Finally our wandering eyes met; we held contact for hardly a second before he cleared his throat and looked away.

"You should uh…you should probably go catch the bus," he muttered.

I nodded jerkily and practically sprinted towards the door. There was a very large part of me that wanted to turn around and confess everything to him – lying and sneaking around behind my father's back made me feel dirty and cruel…too much like my mother.

"Kimberly?"

I closed my eyes with one foot out the door. "Yeah, Dad?"

"Have a nice day."

I almost laughed. _Yeah right_.

xXx

He was following me. I'd noticed it walking to the bus stop; the slow crunching of gravel under tires and an occasional sloshing puddle. At first I just figured someone was trying to pass me, so I got off to the side of the road and waited for them to roll on by; but they never did.

When I glanced over my shoulder to see what the holdup was I froze in place. And so did Jared's red Jeep. I frowned. _Odd._

I turned around and started moving again – so did he. When I stopped, he stopped. When I moved, he moved. Finally I got tired of his little game of copycat and whirled around to face him. I tried to glare at him through the rain drenched windshield as my umbrella poured the excess water all around me.

If he was going to follow me in that big warm vehicle of his, he could at least offer me a ride. He'd had no problem with it yesterday…

But there _was_ something different today; he wasn't as hunched over the steering wheel as he usually was. His face looked smaller and…the hair was all wrong…

_Wait a minute…_ "Paul?"The face behind the windshield contorted into an angry mask._ Yep. Definitely Paul. Well, at least that explains why I haven't been offered a ride. Ass hole._

And then another thought hit me. If Paul had Jared's car…where was Jared?

Heather's voice suddenly filled my head, repeating the directions she'd given me last night to her "genius" plan.

"_You'll have to talk to Jared tomorrow; tell him to pick you up at _my_ house instead of yours. We're gonna have ourselves a little deceitful sleepover."_

As Paul and I glared through the windshield at each other, a sudden panic washed over me.

_Please, please let him be on the bus._

xXx

He wasn't. Of course he wasn't – that would have made things easy on me; couldn't have that now could we?

I collapsed into the seat Heather had saved for me with a dramatic sigh. _I've been doing that a lot…_

"So," Heather chirped, still feeding off of the pride she felt over her slightly dim-witted plan. "What did he say?"

I smacked my head against the seat. "I didn't talk to him, Heather; I haven't even seen him yet."

She mad a very confused face and jabbed her thumb over her shoulder. Jared's Jeep sped swiftly past the bus towards the school.

"Wasn't that just him?"

"No," I grumbled. "That was Paul."

She peeked out the window again and squinted. "How do you know?"

"Because _Jared_ doesn't look like a confused Neanderthal with a stick up his butt."

Heather giggled. "That's a little unfair – Paul doesn't look that _confused_."

_Right. A _regular_ Neanderthal with a stick up his butt, then._

"He's not here, Heather! What am I going to do?" I whined, interrupting her self-indulged laughter.

"Alright, relax," she groaned. "I have him first period, and that guy Connor…Leafsteadt?" She waited for a quick nod from me confirming his name, and then continued. "He's got him second and you have him third…we'll figure it out, okay?"

I moaned and smacked my head against the seat again.

"I sure hope so."

xXx

_First Period Report: No sighting._

_Second Period Report: No sighting._

_You're our only hope Kim._

I paused outside of Mrs. Reece's English classroom, clutching Heather's comically formal not to my chest.

"Please,_ please,_" I whispered quietly to myself. With a deep breath I entered the room behind Daniel Moore and my gaze flicked automatically to where Jared sat; to where he _should_ have been sitting.

_No!_ My face crumpled. I gave up right then and there. If he wasn't here today there was no way I could speak to him before tomorrow. He would show up at my house at five in the morning, my father and uncle would blow his brains out with a shotgun, and I'd never see him again.

That rather gruesome scene played over and over in my head the entire period – I couldn't think about anything else. So when Mrs. Reece asked me a question about _Animal Farm_, I answered: "Boom," and was laughed at for the last ten minutes of class.

When the bell finally rang I marched slowly to my locker, switched out the books from the first half of the day with books for the second half. Then I slammed my locker, remembered my lunch was still inside, had to redo the combination, and gave myself a paper cut when I pulled the paper bag out.

"Damn it," I swore quietly.

This bad morning was getting to me. I felt something deep inside of me, some small little fleshy mechanism, bending farther and farther, closer to the breaking point. I didn't want to know what would happen if it snapped. I'd probably massacre the lunchroom or something.

My back smacked loudly into the lockers as I slid down to the floor, breathing steadily and trying to stabilize whatever it was in me that wanted to break. It took a few minutes and a few assurances to other students nearby that I was alright, but slowly, very slowly, I felt stability returning.

I would be alright.

"Kim?" _Ah, and there's Katie to help me celebrate._

"I'm fine," I assured her before she could ask the question. She gave me one of her famous "you _will_ tell me," looks but let it pass without another comment and reached down to pull me to my feet.

We walked to the lunch table in a comfortable silence, took our seats, and fell into a casual conversation with our table-mates.

About half-way through my peanut-butter and honey sandwich, a heavy wave of exhaustion hit me and I wobbled in my seat.

"Woah," I moaned and let the sandwich drop out of my hand.

Katie touched my shoulder and shot me a concerned look. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just really tired," I yawned. I blinked my eyes a few times to clear my vision; Katie just laughed at me. She pulled gently on my shoulders until I reclined backwards with my head in her lap.

Almost instantly I felt myself nodding off.

_Yes. Sleep. Finally._ Katie stroked my hair a few times and I drew closer to the veil of slumber.

_Maybe it's not such a bad thing Jared's not here today._

"Randall!" An angry voice shouted somewhere over my shoulder. I bolted upright automatically.

_I know that voice!_ Sure enough, there he stood, the picture of perfection in a white T-shirt that looked amazing stretched loosely over his chest and arms. His hair looked shorter than it had the day before and there was an angry set to his eyes; so fierce that I could feel the burn from where I sat ten feet away.

_Jared._ My mind hummed contentedly.

I felt that _something_ deep inside of me flatten out, my exhaustion ebbed away and suddenly I couldn't remember what had been bothering me all day.

In one second, Jared had made everything better.

I leapt straight up with a smile on my face. Katie jumped a little at my sudden energy spurt, and a girl that was sitting near us, Caitlyn, actually screamed.

"Wasn't she _dead_ like, two seconds ago?" Someone muttered.

I ignored them. Jared was here! Now I could tell him about Heather's plan, we could go on a date tomorrow, get married, have a million kids, grow old together and die at _exactly _the same moment in time. Everything would be perfect!

So why did he look so…_angry_?

"Paul Randall!" He yelled again. That angry fire behind his eyes flashed even brighter as he searched for his friend.

Ah yes. Mr. Randall _was_ enough to make _anyone_ angry.

Jared caught sight of Paul and took of towards him at the same moment I took a step towards him. It took half a second for me to register his speedy movement and by that time he was half-way across the cafeteria.

I reacted immediately and changed course to follow right behind him. My foot had barely touched down with the _second step _before he was standing in front of Paul.

_Step three…_

Paul's face stretched into a welcoming and almost…relieved smile. He spread his arms like he was going to hug Jared.

_Step seven…_

Jared's left hand shot up and clocked Paul in the jaw and his right hand grabbed his ear angrily and tugged it to the side like a mother would discipline a child.

_Step seventeen…_

Paul opened his mouth to protest but Jared smacked him in the jaw again and dragged him swiftly out of the cafeteria.

I was _almost_ to him. As I rounded a corner into the locker bay I heard Jared yell: "Get out," and a terrified freshman scrambled past, nearly knocking me over in his haste to get away from the scary senior boys.

Then _I_ caught sight of the scary senior boys and almost followed Frosh-boy. Instead I simply dropped into a clumsy crouch and hid behind the garbage can.

I heard something slam into the locker and a muffled grunt came from Paul…I assumed. Nothing that ugly could have come out of Jared. The sound repeated a few times, each time the grunting grew louder and the lockers reverberated a crunching sound that made my stomach churn.

Very carefully, I peeked around the edge of the garbage can.

Jared's arm was pressed against Paul's throat and he had a death grip on his chin, squishing his lips out into an ugly expression. He pushed his face as close as he could get to Paul without kissing him.

"You know what Paul? I've always known you're an ass hole – I just never expected you to act like an ass to me."

Paul tugged on the arm constricting his air and Jared graciously let him go.

"I don't know what you're talking about man!" Paul gasped, massaging his throat.

Jared growled and slammed his shoulder into the lockers with an audible _snap!_

"Don't feed me shit, Paul!" His voice turned deadly and I felt goose bumps rise on my arms. "You let _it_ pass _on purpose._"

I gulped. Something told me they weren't talking about kidney stones.

Paul's eyes bugged out of his head and he smacked Jared's hands away. He kicked out powerfully with his right leg and landed a shot right in the middle of Jared's chest. Jared flew across the hall and smashed into the wall with a grunt.

"That wasn't me Jared!" Paul shouted and inched slowly closer to Jared who looked like he could commit murder.

"The hell it wasn't! You were the only one on last night!" Jared leapt to attack, but Paul was faster and landed another kick, this time, right on Jared's shoulder. He let out a small cry of pain and crumpled to the ground.

I squeaked and peered behind me at the rest of the cafeteria. A few people were giving me – the girl hugging the garbage can – odd looks, but it didn't look like anybody but me was aware of the huge fight going on only feet away._ I'd _probably only noticed because _Jared_ was one of the combatants.

Part of me wanted to yell for help, just to save Jared from getting hurt, but the part of me that wanted to know what they were fighting about won in the end.

So I tuned back into the irregular programming.

Jared was still lying in a heap on the floor, panting with his hand gripping his chest like he was having a heart attack. A guilty look replaced the furious one on Paul's face and he went to kneel next to his friend. Jared's face was twisted with so much agony I wanted to cry.

"I'm sorry Jay," Paul muttered and placed a hand on Jared's arm. "I forgot about…"

Jared groaned. "Damn it Paul," he whimpered. The venom was missing in his voice when he said it, so I knew that whatever rage he had been in was over with.

So did Paul; he visibly relaxed and offered his other hand for Jared to use. He took the offer carefully, keeping one hand pressed to his chest.

"What was all that about bro?" Paul asked, clapping Jared on his un-injured side. I scoffed silently.

_Who says 'bro' anymore?_

A spark of his earlier anger returned to Jared's faced and he smacked Paul's hand away.

"It was about you and you're fucking jealousy," he growled. "Paul I get it – I do. You don't feel like you're getting enough attention from your best friend." He patted his chest. "You think I'm going to abandon you for her."

"No I d-"

"_Yes_ you do _Polly Pocket_; don't lie to me." They both laughed at that. So did I. Very, _very_ quietly.

"How'd you know?" Paul asked quietly.

Jared rolled his eyes and thumped a knuckle on Paul's forehead. "I'm _all knowing_ dipshit. How do you think I know, huh?"

Paul laughed like this was the most obvious thing in the world. _I _was a little lost.

"Don't worry okay?" Jared punched Paul's arm. Aparently there were a few too many manly-emotions floating around – a punch helped balance things out. "You're my best friend – always. But Kim…she's something else. Something special."

I choked on the breath I was taking._ What?_

I wobbled and about lost my footing._ Does 'something special' mean the same thing to guys as it does to girls?_

Oh, God I hoped so.

My euphoria was shattered when Jared slammed Paul into the locker again.

"Which is why I will _kill you_ if you ever let anything like that happen again."

_Well, I'm gone._ I thought just as I toppled to the ground, taking the trash can and all its contents with me.

xXx

The next thing I knew, Jared Brooks was picking pieces of garbage off of my jersey and dragging me to my feet.

"Are you okay, Kim?" He asked, eyes roaming all over searching for something broken or bruised.

It took me a second to realize that he actually expected me to answer…but I couldn't form words o I just nodded.

While Jared fussed, I caught sight of Paul at the end of the hallway, presumably giving Jared and I some room to talk. I tried to muster my best Paul Randall worthy smile for him, but he shot me a glare so fierce I instantly understood two things very clearly.

One – he hadn't heard a word Jared had said. He was still jealous.

And two – He knew. He knew I'd been eavesdropping on them and he didn't look very happy about it.

"There!" Jared exclaimed happily as he plucked a piece of nacho off of me. "Good as new." He shot me a smile so luminescent I couldn't help but forget about Paul – because who could be thinking about that…thing when faced with something as beautiful as Jared Brooks? Not _me._

"Thanks," I murmured, finally finding my voice.

"Anytime." He smiled again and I was stunned into vegetation by its sheer perfection.

I had almost forgotten why I'd followed Jared in the first place.

"Oh!" I exclaimed, fastening myself back on track. "I needed to talk to you about tomorrow." His face fell a little – last time I'd said those words it was to tell him that my father didn't approve.

_This_ I thought would at least make him happier.

"Well," I started. "Heather's invited me to stay at her house tonight and tomorrow night so you'll have to pick me up there instead of at my place."

His forehead crinkled a little bit but he smiled so I knew he understood. "Am I supposed to know where Heather lives, or is that a secret I don't learn until I join the club?"

I giggled ditzily. "She lives on Church Street…142 I think. It's a big blue house, can't miss it."

My eyes wandered away from his face for a moment, down across his chest and I noticed a little pink spot where he'd been holding his chest in pain earlier.

_Hmm. Odd._

"Sounds good then." Jared stated bluntly, and my eyes shot back up tot his face. "She's got that crazy Irish dad, right?" I nodded and laughed, as my vision slid back down to the pink spot. There was just something…_off_ about it. And it was getting bigger and darker. Redder.

I gasped. "Oh my God, you're bleeding!"

Jared followed my line of sight and glanced down at the slowly blossoming red spot on his chest.

"Damn it," he barked and covered the blood with his hand.

"That looks really bad," I observed. "You should go see the nurse!"

He shook his head quickly. "N-no. I was playing with my dog last night and he bit me. It's really not a big deal." But even as he said it he winced in pain.

My eyebrows furrowed. "How did your dog bite you _there_? It doesn't seem possible." His _wound_ was on the flat part of the left side of his chest, just far enough in to make a dog bite _impossible._

"Well, he did," Jared pushed. With a pained little smile he began his retreat. "Actually I'm supposed to be in bed right now – don't want to get an infection right? Anyways I'll see you tomorrow morning. Five o'clock. At _Heather's_ house." He winked.

"Yeah I guess so."

I watched his wounded retreat and before he'd even left the building I had forgotten all about the blood.

Because tomorrow at five in the morning, I was going on a date with Jared Brooks.

_Jesus Christ._


	16. Dear Reader,

Dear Reader,

First of all, I KNOW. Second of all, DON'T SAY IT.

**This is not an update, but **_**please**_** read it – it explains a lot.**

Well. I'm back-ish. I've been swamped, to say the least. Life, college, and the crushing reality of terminal illness set in this past year and I have to say that it's nice to finally have some _me_ time to chill and catch up with my favorite computer-people ever. :)

I'd like to start off with an explanation of my absence – for those of you who don't really give a crap, feel free to skip this next paragraph or two, I totally understand. For those of you who are curious, here you go.

So. I do believe that about the first four months of my absence can be chalked up to nothing less than pure laziness. I would try to write the next chapter of _The Force,_ really I would – hours and hours of staring at that infuriating blinking cursor on Word, and still, no chapter 16 for you loving readers. After the lazy-period, the busy-period began. I was already here, in Alabama, during the lazy-period, so moving was not part of my busy-period, but decorating, studying, practicing, and boyfriend-ing were very much a part of that. Freshman in college in a new state? Check. Serious long-term boyfriend on the football team that went to the Rose Bowl? Check. New, empty house to decorate and keep clean? Check. So you see, the aptly named busy-period was quite…busy.

And next, we have the Cancer-period. Yes, the dreaded C word has made yet another appearance in my life. I doubt any of you will remember, since it was about two years ago now, but my aunt died of breast cancer. Before her, breast cancer took my grandmother, and after her, two cousins, and most recently, and most painfully, my brother. It's too fresh, and too raw for me to talk about in great detail, but my brother Pat was taken from us on January 17th, 2009. He was a junior at Western Washington University, and (though he didn't tell any of us) was planning on proposing to his girlfriend Jessica once he finished Chemo. Pat died before he was done.

Please, please, _please_, don't take this to be a pity-party letter, because that's not what I'm trying to make it at all. I've really heard enough _I'm sorry's_ to last me a lifetime. This is not about Pat at all, this is about Jared and Kim.

Their story is not done, I promise. It's hard to say when it will be finished, and by then I'm sure most of you will have moved on, but I would like to think that this story could be finished by this time next year. What do we think? Good goal? Or too ambitious? Let me know – we're a team here.

Also – I've got questions.

1. When did we decide that Kim's "official" last name is Conweller, and that Jared's "official" last name was Thail? Did I just not get the memo? Was this a fanfiction-generated phenomenon or did SM announce something? I'm a little lost so..HELP.

2. Anybody got a good Jared/Kim story for a bored college student? I'm in serious need of some good old Jared/Kim action. ;)

Okay. That's it, I'm done. Whenever I get off my ass and write the next chapter, I'll replace this letter with it and make sure that you all get a message – it would be truly fantastic to get some new reviewers. ;)

And as a little note to those of you that are still here with me, that read this thing and are understanding my reasons for absence, _thank you._ From the bottom of my heart. I know it sounds fake and stupid to say that reviews really do make me happy, but sometimes hearing that you're not a complete failure can be nice. :)

Thanks again,

**Laura.**


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